Precious Metal
by catharticone
Summary: The Doctor and Rose make an emergency stop on a harsh and unforgiving planet, where severe weather is only the first of the dangers they will face.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:__ Doctor Who_ is the property of the BBC, and no infringement is intended.

_Author's Note:_ Thank you, as always, to Sonic Jules for encouragement and support.

**Watching some episodes from the first season again made me feel a bit nostalgic for Nine, so here he is...**

* * *

She was sitting on the jump seat reading a magazine when she heard the deep, rending groan. Rose looked up immediately to see the lights flickering and fading to a sickly grayish-green. The ship shuddered, but it was not the wrenching jolt of dematerialization or landing. This was more like a shiver, and it accompanied another agonized metallic moan.

"Doctor!" she cried, "what's goin' on?"

The Time Lord's close-cropped head popped up from beneath the open grating on the floor. "Oh, this isn't good," he replied, his expression somber.

"What? What is it?" Even she could sense that something was terribly wrong with the TARDIS.

He'd sprung to his feet and was now running his hands gently over the console. He paused every few seconds to press a palm more firmly against the vibrating surface, and two or three times he leaned in closely, listening intently. Then he studied two of the screens and tapped at several buttons. His frown deepened with each passing moment.

Rose had gotten up to stand beside him as he worked. She rested a tentative hand against the console, feeling the unsteady, arrhythmic quivering. Something was very wrong with the ship; even her untrained senses could feel the entity's growing distress.

"What can I do?" she asked softly.

The Doctor's head shot up at her question. "Nothing," he replied curtly. "This's all on me."

"What's the matter with her?"

"Vitamin deficiency," he said succinctly. "At least that's the nearest equivalent I can give you in terms you'll understand. She's run low on cochlolinite."

"That's some sort of mineral?"

He nodded. "She only uses a small amount, but she needs it to operate smoothly. I've let it run low—idiot, me." He looked utterly miserable. "Usually needs replacing about once per century, an' I just replaced it seventy years ago. But extreme stress can deplete it faster, an' I should've realized…"

She placed her hand over his arm. "So we'll just get some more."

He shook his head in mild annoyance. "It's not that easy, Rose. This's a rare element, available on only a handful of planets."

"But we can go anywhere, right?"

"Normally, yes, but the ship's weak now, an' she's gonna have trouble breaking out of temporal orbit. In this state, there's a good chance we'd break up in the effort."

Rose's heart beat just a little faster. "You don't have any tucked away, hidin' in a bin somewhere?" she asked hesitantly. If he did, she was sure he'd have thought of it.

He frown deepened almost impossibly, then suddenly his mouth quirked into a smile. "Brilliant you are, Rose Tyler! What'd I say about only taking the best?"

She was still trying to think of a response when he took her arms and gently pushed her out of the way. She watched as he bent to peer at a small indentation on the side of the console. He poked at it with a finger then reached into his pocket for the sonic screwdriver. He wriggled the instrument a bit until it clicked into the little hole then switched it on.

"Come on," he murmured, his thumb caressing the edge of the console. "Extract it… just pull out what you need."

The ship juddered, and for one instant the lights flickered off. Then the normal illumination returned, and the pained hum ceased. The Doctor grinned up at Rose.

"You had some of that cocolite in the sonic screwdriver?" she asked.

"Cochlolinite," he corrected, but not unkindly. "Just a tiny bit, really, but it should be enough to get us out of the Void and to a place where we can get more."

He stood quickly and began pulling levers and twisting knobs. The TARDIS lurched abruptly, nearly throwing Rose to the floor. They dematerialized with a thud, and then the lights dimmed to a distant glow.

"She's conserving power," he said, "waiting 'til we get outside, then she'll power down 'til we return with the cochlolinite."

His eyes were moving rapidly over the view screen even as his fingers typed at one of the keyboards. A hint of a scowl returned to haunt his brow.

"Make that 'I'," he said.

"Huh? What about your eye?"

"No, Rose, I mean _I'm_ going out to get us the cochlolinite; you're staying in here."

Now it was her turn to frown. "No, I wanna come with you."

He turned the screen toward her and pointed. "You don't wanna go out in that."

She could see snow swirling in the foreground and a steel grey sky above. "So I'll wear a coat."

"No." His tone was resolute.

"Bad weather's never stopped me before—"

"It's not just the weather," he interjected. "This planet's hostile; it's not safe for you out there."

"Don't be daft! It can't be any worse than facin' the Gelth or Slytheen—"

"It is," he said summarily. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Stay here, Rose. Please."

"For how long?"

"Long as it takes." At her questioning look, he added, "Which should probably be less than an hour."

He walked down the ramp and opened the doors. She was close at his heels. The frigid air hit her like a slap in the face. She blinked. "Where're you goin'? How far'll you have to go?" she asked.

He was squinting through the snow. "I see smoke—looks less than two kilometers away. I should be able to reach the village in about twenty minutes. So I'll be back in an hour, hour-and-a-half, tops."

"An' if you're not?"

"I will be. Stay here, Rose. Don't open the doors for anyone but me."

She could see the determination in his face. There was a little glint of fear in his eyes, too. He really was concerned about her well-being, and she knew he wouldn't back down.

"Fine," she said, although her voice expressed her displeasure. "Anythin' in particular you want me to do while I'm waitin'?"

"Make tea—lots of it, an' make it hot. I'll need it when I get back."

She nodded. "Be careful."

He gave her hand a quick squeeze then stepped out the door.

* * *

Rose watched him walk away on the view screen. He was hunched over, keeping his head down against the arctic wind. He looked miserable. She wished she'd told him to take a heavy coat; his leather jacket surely wouldn't offer much protection from the freezing air and icy snow. He had only gone a dozen meters. It wasn't too late to run after him.

She hurried to the wardrobe room and found a warm overcoat and woolen gloves. She grabbed a fur-lined cloak for herself then ran back to the console room. She wrapped herself in the cloak and draped the coat over her arm then stepped outside.

The wind was strong and even colder than she'd anticipated. If she'd had more time, she would have changed into something warmer than her short denim skirt, jumper, and tights, but she wouldn't be outside long. She could see the Doctor's dark form ahead, and if she set a good pace she could catch up to him in just a few minutes. …

She tried calling to him, but her loudest shout was carried away in the rush of wind. She strode forward purposefully, and soon she was approaching him. "Doctor!" she cried again.

He turned around, and for a moment she was utterly confused. She saw a bearded man staring back at her. He was about the same height as the Doctor, but he was much burlier, and he wore a thick fur coat. A dark cap was pulled over his head, mimicking the Time Lord's short hair from a distance.

"Oh," she exclaimed. "Sorry! I thought you were someone else—" She looked to the left and right, but she couldn't see the Doctor. Where had he gone?

The man was walking toward her with heavy yet fast steps. The closer he got, the bigger she realized he was. Now she wondered how she could have mistaken him for the Doctor. His gaze was fixed on her.

Instinctively, she began to back away. "I'm lookin' for—" she began.

"Woman!" he shouted, his deep, gruff voice rumbling through the wind. His stride seemed to double in length.

Rose turned and began to run. She had gone only a few meters when his hand wrapped around her arm. His grip was like iron, and she was unable to tug or twist away from him.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

"Woman!" he repeated, and then his massive arms wrapped around her waist and he hoisted her over his shoulder. The coat fell from her hands.

Her head hung over his chest, and her feet dangled against his back. She kicked and pummeled him with her fists, but he seemed oblivious to the blows. He was walking again, and the arm he'd clamped over her back tightened.

Rose could barely breathe beneath the unrelenting press of his steely forearm. She gasped for air, struggling ineffectually against the forced constriction of her lungs. Finally her fists unclenched and her hands swung limply as consciousness slipped away.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken only a few minutes of visually scanning the area for the Doctor to determine that the quickest path to the village was down the low hill to his left. He swerved his steps then began the small descent. He glanced back once at the TARDIS, assured that Rose was safely inside, then he continued on, the ship no longer in view.

He'd walked for perhaps fifteen minutes when he heard a noise. He was less than half a kilometer from the village; he'd made good time, actually, and thought he'd be back in his ship within the hour. So the distraction was not particularly welcome. Still, when he recognized the noise as the cry of frantic voices, he sighed and changed direction again.

Something was moving toward him in the blowing snow. It was large and bulky, and he realized quickly that it was not human. It was an animal, and it was clearly frightened. It was running over the frozen ground, snorting its distress and fear through billowing clouds of steam.

Behind it were several men, chasing the creature and calling out for it to stop. As the Doctor looked about, he saw that the ground was rough and rocky, with many deep indentations. If the animal ran through here, it would likely fall and break a leg. This must be what the men feared.

The Time Lord stepped directly into the creature's path. It was moving in a straight line, and it did not even attempt to veer away. It was very large, very strong, and the four tusks protruding from its snout likely mowed down anything and everything in its wake. It didn't need to alter its course.

The Doctor stood firmly, lifting one hand to his mouth. The beast was close enough for him to smell its musky odor and see the shaggy hair that flapped about with its rapid pace. It was coming straight at him.

He pushed two fingers between his lips and gave a low whistle.

The animal came to a sudden halt, its hooves sliding on the frozen ground. The Doctor reached forward and grabbed its thick forelock, steadying it before it fell.

"Easy," he soothed, scratching its ears as it regained its footing. "There you go. You're fine now."

The creature looked up at him with large, soulful eyes. He wrapped an arm around its neck and waited until the men surrounded him. Their postures were slightly threatening, and their countenances were less than friendly.

"This yours?" he asked conversationally.

"Yes," one replied. "We have only three."

"Well then, it's a good thing I was here to keep this fellow from falling." He patted the woolly forelock again.

"You are from far away," another man observed none too astutely. That much was obvious from the differences in clothing, facial hair, and general physique.

Still, the Doctor nodded amiably. "Yep. Just stopped in to make a trade, actually."

"A trade?" the man who'd first spoken asked. "What sort of trade?"

"Oh, just a little one, really. I'm looking for a few of those shiny, green pebbles you find occasionally. You know, about this big." He demonstrated with his fingers. "They have a faint glow—you probably use 'em to light your homes at night."

"What will you trade for them?"

"Why don't we go to your village, and we can discuss it there."

"We don't trade with strangers," another man said, stepping forward and lifting a short spear.

The first speaker, who seemed to be the accepted leader of the small group, glowered at his companion. "Not often. But he's saved the beast. We owe him the chance to try."

Begrudgingly, the other men nodded. In a few minutes, the Doctor found himself closed by the small group as they escorted him toward their village. They were a taciturn bunch. They watched him warily, and more than one hand clutched a knife or spear.

"So," he said casually, when the silence began to border on oppressive, "suppose we haven't been properly introduced. I'm the Doctor."

He extended his hand to the nearest man, who stared at it with some offense.

"Hmm," he amended, "suppose that's not customary here. Handshake's a common form of greeting in a lot of places I've been. 'Course in some it's an insult… Oi, I haven't insulted you, have I?"

The leader paused in his steps. "Insulted? Do you mean shown disrespect?"

"Yeah."

"The hand is a sign of power," the man explained briefly, lifting his own. "We raise our hands to the women when they forget their place. You showed your hand in that way."

The other men guffawed now, amused by his faux pas once they realized he hadn't meant it as an offense.

The leader's posture shifted. He thrust out his left foot, giving the frozen ground one solid tap with his heel before touching the toe of his thick boot to the Doctor's boot.

"I'm Sagar," he said by way of introduction.

"Sagar," the Doctor repeated. "Please to meet you." He mimicked the foot gesture, and the other men nodded in approbation.

"We call you The?" Sagar asked.

"The?" For a moment the Time Lord was stymied, then he grinned. "No, just Doctor'll be fine."

"Doctor, then," Sagar said.

The village was close now. The Doctor could smell the smoke puffing up from a handful of buildings. A high, sturdy wall surrounded the small community, and a solid gate seemed to permit approved entry and egress only.

Two of the men hurried forward to deliver a series of seemingly complex knocks to the gate. Of course the Doctor memorized the pattern instantly, filing it away for possible future reference. The heavy portal swung open, and the group stepped inside. The animal was led off to a stable some distance from the other structures.

"Come," Sagar said to the visitor. "You will drink with us."

The Doctor understood that this was intended as a gesture of gratitude. Still, he really preferred not to waste the time required for sampling the local rotgut. He simply wanted to get the cochlolinite and return to his ship, where Rose waited safely, away from these brutes who believed it acceptable to hit women.

"That's not necessary," he replied. "I'm just here to trade—"

"Drink first, then we'll talk about the trade," Sagar responded firmly.

Begrudgingly, the Doctor followed Sagar and three other men to a ramshackle, smoky public house. Inside he found a large, open fireplace against the far wall. A few roughly hewn benches were scattered about the room. He could see a kitchen off to one side, and a dim hallway hinted at a few additional rooms in the back.

The men sank down on the benches closest to the fire. The Doctor followed suit, watching the woman who emerged from the kitchen. She carried a large wooden tray with earthenware mugs balanced upon it. She kept her eyes on the floor, so at first he couldn't tell how old she was. He saw streaks of gray in her hair and noted that she walked with a limp. However, when she lifted her head quickly to pass out the mugs without spillage, he was surprised to see the face of woman still in her thirties. Her nose was misshapen, obviously the result of more than one badly healed break, and a long scar ran down her right cheek. But her eyes were beautiful; they were a clear, pale green surrounded by long, dark lashes. She must have been breath-taking once… His jaw clenched at the thought of what these men had done to her.

When she handed him the last mug, he said, "Thank you."

She backed away quickly, clearly surprised by his words.

"Food," Sagar ordered, and she gave one brief nod then hastened away.

The men lifted their cups and drank noisily. The Time Lord eyed the contents of his mug warily. He could smell the rawness of the grain alcohol. He tilted the cup to his lips, tasting a scant drop. One hundred-twenty proof— He nearly grimaced.

"Drink!" Sagar said, watching the newcomer with mild suspicion.

"Bottoms up!" the Doctor said, silently directing both livers to ramp up enzyme production. He took a swig and managed to swallow it without spluttering. He set the cup on the bench then looked pointedly at Sagar. "So, about that trade."

"In time, Doctor. Eat with us, drink some more, and let us show you our thanks. Then we will talk."

He wanted to urge things along faster, but four more men had entered the building. All of them were huge, and each wore an expression of distrust. It was clear that they had come to appraise the visitor. The man who'd led the animal away was with them.

The woman returned with another tray laden with steaming bowls. She distributed them to the initial group, hesitating with the final portion, unsure whether to give it to the Doctor or to one of the men who'd recently entered.

"Give it to him!" Sagar snapped, pointing at the Time Lord.

She handed him the bowl, again appearing surprised by his acknowledgment.

"What's your name?" he asked her kindly.

She hunched into herself and clasped her hands tightly. The man next to Sagar grabbed her arm roughly. "Answer him!" he commanded.

"Friya," she whispered.

"Thank you, Friya," the Time Lord said.

Every pair of masculine eyes in the room fixed on him. He could feel the glares and glowers. He'd obviously violated a social stricture. In any other circumstance, he'd have grabbed Friya's hand and made a run for the nearest door. But he needed the cochlolinite desperately, and the only defense he had against these burly barbarians was his wits. So he would have to play along, at least for a little while.

He looked away from her, feigning disinterest. "The rest of 'em need food, too," he said gruffly.

Friya nodded meekly, waiting to be released. Once she was, she hurried to the kitchen. The Doctor still felt the indignant stares.

He turned toward Sagar and said casually, "Bit nice lookin', that one," waving a hand absently toward the kitchen.

Sagar frowned initially, then, as understanding gradually seeped in, a leer spread across his face. He gave a strange, short grunt that might have been akin to a wanton laugh. Several other men mimicked the noise, then Sagar clapped him heartily on the back.

"She's yours, then, at least for tonight," said the leader.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak but quickly decided against it. For once, he had nothing to say.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

Rose woke slowly, her senses seeming to come alive one by one. First there was smell: Something musty and slightly oily was most prominent, with a hint of smoke in the background. Next was sound: She heard the crackle of a fire and soft, tentative whispers. Her fingers moved slowly over whatever she lay upon. It felt slightly scratchy, rather dirty, and not particularly soft. Finally she opened her eyes.

She was lying on the ground, on a pelt, about a meter from an open fireplace. The flames provided the only illumination in the room. A dozen or so women sat around her, all watching her intently. When they saw that her eyes were open, their whispers ceased.

Rose pushed herself up onto her elbows, suppressing a groan at the ache the motions brought to her left side. At least she could breathe now. She supposed that was something. She glanced down to see that her shoes had been removed, and the thick cloak she'd worn was gone.

She sat up and looked at the faces all around her. Each was somber, and it took her a few moments to realize that none of these women was much older than she was. There was a weariness, a sense of age and time passing heavily that seemed to shroud them. All she could think to do was to offer them a warm smile.

"Hi," she croaked, surprised at the raspiness of her voice. "I'm Rose."

No one responded immediately, so she leaned toward the young woman closest to her and asked, "What's your name?"

"Miara," was the soft reply.

"Miara. Wow, that's really pretty. And you?"

Each woman gave her name in turn, and by the time they'd finished the tension was a bit less thick.

"So where are we?" Rose asked. "I mean, how'd I get here?"

"Kuroq brought you," Miara said.

"Must be that prat who grabbed me out there," she reasoned.

"You were traveling?" Miara inquired.

"Yeah, sorta. I came here with a friend, an' I was supposed to wait for him, but he didn't have a warm coat, so I went after him, an' that's when that pillock got me."

"A friend?" Miara repeated. "A man?"

Rose nodded. "Yeah."

Further discussion was halted as the door swung open and slammed against the wall. A huge, sullen man stepped inside. Rose recognized him immediately, only now she knew his name.

She got to her feet and walked toward him. Her head reached only to his shoulder, but she lifted her chin and gave him the most indignant glare she could muster. She raised her fist and opened her mouth, a torrent of castigation ready on her tongue.

But in an instant his huge hand had flown up to slam against her cheek. She stumbled back from the force of the blow, tasting blood immediately.

"How dare you raise your hand to me!" Kuroq bellowed.

Rose regained her footing, resentment fueling initial fear into boldness. "An' how dare you hit me! I'm half your size!"

For a massive brute, he was far from oafish. His motions were rapid and furious as his hand shot up to close over her throat. For one moment she thought he would break her neck. He flung her down to the ground, where she landed with a thud.

"You will not speak to me!" he ordered. "You will regret your tongue, woman." The look he gave her could only be described as one of lascivious fury.

The other women had cowered into the far corners. Kuroq swept a hand toward all of them and made a strange knocking motion in the air, then he turned on his heel and left with a firm slam of the door. Rose could hear an exterior bolt slipping into place. Through the open door she'd glimpsed a few other buildings.

No one moved to help her up, so she slowly got to her feet, wiping her hand over the blood seeping from her lip. She glanced at the glistening crimson liquid with distaste then looked at Miara.

"Is this how he treats all of you?" she asked.

Miara appeared confused. "Treats?" she repeated.

"Yeah. Hitting you, giving you those disgusting looks, not even letting you speak—"

"We do not speak to the men unless they wish us to," she said.

"Ever?"

"Of course not."

Rose walked toward the fire, rubbing her arms against the chill creeping over her. Now she could see pelts scattered throughout the room. Two large pots hung over the fire, and bowls sat on the hearth. A few simple garments, half-finished, lay on the single low bench in the room.

"You don't live in here, do you?" Rose asked.

"Yes," Miara replied stoically.

"But surely it's not just you. I mean, there're other women here in your village, aren't there?"

"Yes. The old women take care of the children in the nursery, and the women who are with child live in the birth house."

"An' that's all of you?"

Miara shrugged. "A few are with the men now, in their houses, but once they tire of them, our sisters will return to us here."

"So you just stay in here all the time?" That would explain the pastiness of all the women's complexions.

"When the weather is fair we go outside. But that is not often." Seemingly emboldened by Rose's interest, she continued, "And the men send for us nearly every day."

"Send for you?" Rose repeated. "For what?" As soon as she asked, she realized the folly of her question.

Miara gave her the same look she'd received more than once from the Doctor when he could scarcely believe her human ignorance. Patiently, as if speaking to a child, Miara replied, "What men do to women." She watched Rose's reaction then added, "Beneath our clothes."

"Yeah, I get it," Rose said angrily. "So you just let 'em do that to you? You're better than that! Your body's your own, and you're the one who decides what happens to it."

The women were all watching her curiously and with building incredulity. Several were shaking their heads.

"You must be from very far away," Miara finally said. "Your ideas are so strange! But you're here now, and you must obey."

"Who? That monster?" She gestured toward her split lip.

"All of the men. If you don't, you'll be hurt… very badly."

"An' if I do, I'll be hurt… very badly," Rose replied mordantly.

Miara rested a gentle hand on Rose's shoulder. "No. If you do as they say, if you don't try to fight, they won't hurt you very much, and it will be over in a few minutes."

Rose shook her head vehemently. "No. Uh uh. No way. No one's doin' that to me."

"Rose," Miara said sadly, "you have no choice. Kuroq will return for us soon. Please, just be good—"

Rose stalked away, testing the door and looking up at the single high window. It was very small, only about three inches high and ten inches long. There was no way she could fit through it. She looked around for anything that she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing. The pots on the hearth were huge and appeared prohibitively heavy, and the bowls were thin ceramic. There was no cutlery.

"It will be over soon," Miara said kindly.

"How many go at a time?"

"We all do."

"Look," Rose said fervently, "if we all stick together, we might be able to get away. What if we all run when he comes to get us?"

Miara's eyes widened. "No, we can't do that. We would be punished severely."

"Not if you got away—"

"That's impossible. And even if we did, what would we do? Who would take care of us?"

The other women nodded in concordance. Rose realized with a sinking heart that convincing these women to rebel was an insurmountable task, at least at the moment. Well, once she found the Doctor, they'd do something about it; he'd help her set things right. Now she just needed to figure out a way to escape and get back to the TARDIS… because by God, she'd die before she'd let Kuroq or any other brute touch her.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor had managed to avoid consuming more than half a drink. Friya had removed his barely touched cups without comment as she brought seconds and thirds to the other men. Despite the strength of the beverage and the amounts downed, no one appeared drunk or even tipsy. The Time Lord frowned as this realization hit him.

He'd hoped that the men would become careless once sufficient alcohol had entered their systems. Hell, he'd really hoped that most of them would pass out, and then he could slip away and return with the TARDIS… But this plan was not working. Six very solid bodies blocked the front door, and three others sat near the hallway entrance, so even if there were an exit through there he'd have trouble reaching it. His mood darkened as the men's dispositions grew lighter. Raucous laughter shook the room as the hulks made increasingly disparaging, crude comments about the village's women, including Friya. The primary effect of the alcohol seemed to be on their libidos.

The Doctor attempted to smile through his disgust, knowing that antagonizing his hosts would do no good. He still needed the cochlolinite, and even if he could get away he would be hard-pressed to find the precious bits of mineral himself. He'd seen none in the public house. That meant it probably wasn't widely used, although Sagar had seemed to know what it was.

A loud, surly newcomer joined the group after about half an hour. He seemed to share Sagar's relatively high social status, earning respectful nods from the others and a place at the leader's side.

"This is Doctor," Sagar said heartily, shoving a foot toward the guest by way of greeting. "He's the one who saved the animal."

The Time Lord tapped his foot politely, eliciting guffaws from several nearby drinkers. One said, "He's quick."

Another leaned over to Sagar's companion to grunt heartily, "Kuroq! He _lifted his hand_ to us!"

Kuroq scowled mightily, but the chortles all around him seemed contagious, and finally he gave a loud snort of amusement as he understood the guest's blunder. "He didn't know!"

More laughter at the Doctor's expense ensued, but he simply shook his head and grinned abashedly.

Kuroq raised a beefy hand. "Doctor!" he chortled, spittle flying from his thick lips.

The others found this imitation utterly hilarious, and for a few moments the Doctor thought he might be able to dash out the door while everyone was in the throes of laughter. But then his gaze fixed on Kuroq's hand. A smear of blood ran down his wrist.

Kuroq caught his stare and shook his fist. "If you were a woman, this is what you'd get!"

The Doctor scowled in repulsion and anger at the evidence of the man's violence. However, he refrained from commenting.

Everyone laughed again, but the group's attention was shifting. "Women!" someone yelled.

Sagar nodded, his amused expression changing to one of unbridled lust. "Now, Doctor, we'll thank you the man's way, our way."

The Doctor lifted a dubious eyebrow. "You don't need to—"

"Yeah, we do," Kuroq nearly growled, as more than one man made vulgar gestures.

"That's your thing. I don't want to intrude. I only came here to trade—"

"Doctor," Sagar interjected, "this is how we'll thank you. This is how we'll show you that you are welcome here, and that you are worthy of our trade." He was frowning suspiciously, the tenuous trust he'd offered the guest quickly wavering.

"They're your women," the Doctor tried again, "an' I don't want to take what's yours."

This earned another guttural laugh all around. Sagar said, "We'll share as a token of our thanks. Tonight, they're yours, too." He turned to Kuroq. "Go."

Kuroq left to approving grunts and filthy comments. Sagar glanced toward the kitchen. "You can have_ her_, if you want."

The Doctor hesitated.

"Or any of them," Sagar continued. "You get your pick. Most are younger and better than Friya. But you choose." He licked his lips.

"Thanks," the Doctor muttered darkly. One way or another, he was getting out, and the sooner the better. Cochlolinite be damned; he wasn't having any part of this.

* * *

"So what happened to my shoes?" Rose asked Miara. This seemed a safe enough topic of conversation. She'd given up on trying to convince the women that they were being badly mistreated. She rubbed at her arms. "I had a warm cloak, too."

"Kuroq took them as soon as he brought you here."

"Why the hell'd he do that?"

"So that you won't be able to run away. Sometimes the new girls try to leave, but they're always caught and punished."

"So I'm not the only one who's been kidnapped?" Rose nearly spat the question.

"Kidnapped?" Miara repeated the unfamiliar word. "I don't understand."

"Taken—I mean against my will, without permission, and forced to stay here an'… you know."

"Any woman who is outside the village alone becomes the men's property." She gestured toward a girl with dark circles under her eyes. "Sralla came to us not long ago. She was traveling, but her man died, so she now belongs here."

"An' that's all right with you?" Rose asked Sralla.

Sralla stared mutely at Rose and smoothed her hair with a slightly shaking hand.

"She doesn't speak much," Miara informed the newest member of their group. "Sometimes that happens. But she'll get better."

"That's terrible!" Rose cried. "How many others of you came here like that?"

"She's the only one now," Miara replied. "The others are dead." This information was delivered with little emotion; it appeared simply a fact.

"Dead?" Rose repeated. "Killed, you mean?"

"No. One ran away and died from the cold."

"Yeah, with no shoes or a wrap, I'm sure she did."

"The other died in childbirth."

"Does that happen a lot?"

Miara shrugged.

"Kuroq," someone said softly at the sound of the bolt disengaging.

Immediately all of the women but Rose reached for simple wraps then stood and began lining up near the door. No one spoke, and their expressions became blank.

"Come," Miara urged, tugging at Rose's elbow. "You must get up now."

"No way. I'm not lettin' anyone touch me."

For just a moment a tinge of fear flickered across Miara's face, but then she turned toward the door as it opened and Kuroq stepped inside.

His eyes swept the room, quickly falling on Rose. He stormed toward her and pulled her up roughly by the arm. "Stand up!" he ordered.

She attempted ineffectually to twist away. "Get off me, you pig!"

He made a low, feral sound in his throat and tightened his grip on her arm. "Tonight you're mine. I'll show you how to behave. You'll learn your place if you want to live." One massive hand tangled painfully in her hair, keeping her head immobile as he bent over her. "Yeah, I'm gonna _enjoy_ this," he growled.

He jerked her head back and ran his fetid tongue roughly along her neck and toward her mouth. Then he bit the edge of her lip savagely, and she cried out. Quickly she lifted her knee, intending to deliver a blow to his groin, but he flung her against the wall. Her head collided with the wood, and for a moment spots and flecks of light flickered before her eyes.

And then he had her arm again and was dragging her outside. The other women had already begun filing out into the frigid, snowy darkness. No one wore shoes, but there were no complaints.

Kuroq loomed over Rose. The cold air brought her back to her senses enough to hear him say, "Enjoy the walk, woman, because when I'm done with you, you'll be lucky if you can crawl."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Please take the story rating seriously. It applies to this chapter in particular. Content and themes are not appropriate for children or young teens.

* * *

Friya had just finished gathering up the latest round of cups when the door opened and the women began shuffling in. The Doctor watched in morbid fascination as they seemed to enter willingly, unaffected by the coarse comments and grunts of the men. For a moment his gaze swept over their faces. None was older than thirty, and most were much younger. Hell, some looked even younger than Rose.

Thank Rassilon he'd kept her safely tucked away inside the TARDIS. Of all the dangers they'd faced, this was perhaps the most distasteful. He was glad she wouldn't have to witness this.

The women's expressions were almost blank; their lack of affect was noticeable. They must steel themselves against the physical and emotional assault, perhaps finding solace in some small, quiet place in their minds. At least he hoped that was the case.

Soon he would help them, deliver them from this evil… But he probably couldn't prevent this one last incident. As soon as Kuroq came through the door, the Doctor planned to make a run for it. The men's attention was already focusing on the women, and he thought that if he were quick—and he planned to move with lightning speed—he could make it outside before anyone realized what he was doing.

Sagar elbowed him in the ribs. "See any you like?"

"Yeah, s'pose so," he replied, trying not to sound utterly revolted.

Kuroq's large form nearly blocked the doorway. He paused for a moment, nodding toward his fellows before stepping inside. This was the Doctor's chance. He drew a deep breath to deliver extra oxygenation to his muscles, and prepared to run.

And then he saw the woman Kuroq dragged behind him. For a few seconds he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. She was entirely out of context. Maybe the drink had some sort of hallucinogenic properties… But his livers would filter those; he wouldn't be affected. It really was Rose.

He had a thousand questions about how they'd gotten her, what had happened, where she'd been. But those would have to wait, because right now his only priority was getting her away from these brutes.

His legs tensed, and he urged his adrenal glands to kick into overdrive. Then suddenly Kuroq pulled Rose fully through the door, and three other men moved to stand before it, blocking the exit entirely with their bulk. The short, jagged daggers hanging at their sides forced the Doctor to change his plans.

Rose appeared slightly dazed. Her head was partially lowered, so she hadn't seen the Time Lord yet. His mind spun with possibilities, but in the end only one option seemed logical. He had the ideal opportunity to take her into the back, where surely there would be another means of escape. And even if there weren't, at least he could keep her safe from these vile men.

But this plan was predicated on the premise that he would choose her. If Sagar and the others figured out that he knew her, he felt certain that whatever trust they'd begrudgingly built would immediately disintegrate, placing Rose in danger.

So when she lifted her head and began to look around with wide, frightened eyes, he clenched his jaw and waited for her gaze to find him. The instant it did, she opened her mouth in surprise. He shook his head and lifted a finger quickly to press over his lips. She frowned but seemed to understand what he was asking.

His sharp eyes did not miss her swollen, bloodied lip and badly mussed hair. He clenched his jaw tighter as fury coursed through him. He'd be certain that whoever hurt her paid for his atrocious deeds. But that would have to wait just a little while.

"You choose first," Sagar said, leering at his guest. "Friya!" he shouted, and she came from the kitchen to stand meekly with the other women. "Now you see them all. Which one, Doctor?"

The Time Lord took a step forward, forcing his eyes to move over Friya and the women closest to her. Then he took another step, feigning interest in a couple of other girls. The men watched him, offering crass commentary as he considered the poor creatures before him.

Finally he stood before Rose. She kept her eyes averted, but he could see some of the fear and tension melting away from her expression. He turned back to another young woman for a moment then pointed at Rose.

"This one," he said simply.

"She's new," Sagar commented. "She might not be broken in yet."

"Even better," the Doctor said as his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"No!" Kuroq cried suddenly. "This one's mine!"

The Doctor crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at Sagar. "Thought I got my pick."

Sagar addressed Kuroq. "He saved the animal. I told him he could have whichever one he wanted."

Kuroq shook his huge head. "No. I get her." Somewhat begrudgingly, he added, "He can have her when I'm done if he really wants her, but she won't be much good to anyone then."

The Doctor shook his head and looked straight at Sagar. "Thought you were a man of your word."

Sagar glanced at Kuroq, and the Doctor suddenly understood that these two men had vied for power. Sagar had emerged on top, but some opposition remained.

"I am," Sagar replied, standing a bit taller.

"Good. Then I want _her_," the Time Lord repeated. For good measure, he added, "Reminds me of the women where I'm from. These others…" He shrugged.

Kuroq's hand closed around Rose's arm with sufficient force to cause her to squeak in pain, then he thrust her toward the Doctor. She stumbled, and he had to force himself to remain still and not try to catch her. She fell to her knees.

"Fine," Kuroq snarled, "take her. But I'll have her when you're done." He stalked off with a glower and pulled another woman into one of the corners.

"Get up," the Doctor told Rose brusquely. Then, as she got to her feet, he looked at Sagar. "Rooms're in the back, right?"

Sagar frowned in momentary confusion, then he appeared to understand. "Yes. But you don't use those now."

"Pardon?"

The leader swept a hand across the room. Men had already begun moving off toward the walls with women in tow. "We drink here, we eat here, we have our women here."

"All together? As a group?"

Sagar clapped a beefy hand over his back. "Yes!"

"Where I come from," the Doctor said as steadily as he could, "we do this in private."

"In private? You mean in a room?"

The Time Lord nodded.

"That's not our way. But if she pleases you and you want to have her again, you can take her into the back and keep her with you for the night. First time, though, you do this with us." Sagar's tone hardened with the final sentences. His doubts were returning.

The furthest corner was still empty. The Doctor took Rose's wrist and led her away. He pressed her into the vertex of the two walls and leaned in to say softly, "I'm sorry."

"What's goin' on?" she whispered.

"Sshh. Don't talk. I'm gonna get you out of here, but it's gonna take a little time. We need to play along for now."

He slid his hand gently into her hair. His fingers brushed over a swelling on the back of her head, and his eyes fixed on her injured lip. As Rose's gaze drifted over his shoulder, he felt her entire body stiffen. He glanced back to see the nearest man tugging up his woman's skirt. His trousers were pooled around his feet.

"Don't," he said lowly. "Look at me, just at me."

"Oh my God," she breathed.

He could feel eyes upon his back. He turned his head quickly to see Sagar watching him suspiciously.

"Rose, listen to me," he said urgently, his voice barely above a whisper. "We have to get through this part. We have to convince them… have to make them believe it's real. I'm sorry."

Before she could question him further, he'd cupped her buttocks in his hands and pulled her toward him. He pushed up her short skirt and grasped her tights, tearing them away in one swift motion. She gasped in sincere surprise.

"Doctor—"

"Shush." His tone left no room for argument.

She was trembling now, and when he wrapped his hand around her right thigh he could feel the unnatural coolness of her skin. He lifted her leg and reached for the zip on his jeans.

Keeping one hand on her thigh, he moved the other to offer a quick caress to her cheek. Then his fingers slid down to her neck, where he increased the pressure for one brief moment. Rose slumped forward limply. He held her up with one arm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice almost breaking. Then he lifted her slightly and thrust his hips forward.

When Sagar next looked at the visitor, he saw the distinctive motions as the Doctor's hips moved in rhythmic yet increasingly forceful thrusts. He grinned and returned to the girl before him.

After a few minutes, the Doctor fumbled at his zip again, trying to keep his hand from shaking too badly. Rose was still unconscious, so he hoisted her over his shoulder and placed a possessive hand on her bum. Her arms dangled over his back.

"She pleased me," he ground out as he passed Sagar. "I'm takin' her for the night."

* * *

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

Kuroq glared at the Doctor from across the room but said nothing. Holding Rose against his shoulder, the Time Lord stalked into the dim hallway, seeing only four interior doors. Friya emerged from the kitchen to ask hesitantly if there was anything he needed.

"Some warm water, couple of clean cloths," he replied.

She nodded then gestured toward one of the doors. He opened it to find a small, sparsely furnished room. Against one wall lay a bed frame with a pelt stretched tightly across it, and a small, poorly constructed table sat near the door. One rough blanket was folded neatly at the foot of the bed. He suspected this was Friya's handiwork. The room had a single, tiny window near the ceiling.

He shifted Rose into his arms then placed her upon the bed. He spread the blanket over her in the hopes of dispelling her chill. He was standing beside her when Friya brought the water, two clean rags, and a thick candle. She set them on the table.

"Those doors," he asked, gesturing toward the hallway, "they're all to bedrooms?"

She nodded.

"Only way out's through the common room?"

She nodded again.

"No fire safety inspectors here," he said, even though he knew the joke would be lost on her. He shook his head then added succinctly, "Thank you."

She left. The Doctor walked slowly back to the door and shut it. He pressed his hands over the coarse wood and inhaled deeply. His stomach was in knots, and he thought that if he were in any other situation he might allow himself to succumb to the building nausea, to expel the contemptible darkness twisting in his gut.

Finally he turned back to the bed. In the flickering candlelight, he could see Rose's pale, still face. He moved the table closer, providing better illumination. He sat down beside her and brushed the hair way from her cheeks.

He passed a gentle thumb over her swollen lower lip. The cut was visible through the blood, and there was another mark—a deep, red contusion—on the side of her mouth. She'd been hit hard. He carefully slid a finger inside her mouth and ran it over her teeth. Nothing felt loose, and he was grateful for that.

He probed her entire skull softly with his fingertips, checking for injury. He quickly found the lump he'd noticed before. That bastard Kuroq had treated her brutally. Remembering the iron grip with which the brute held her arm, he pushed aside the blanket and slid up her sleeves to see the beginnings of bruises near both elbows. He felt along the length of each arm to be sure nothing was broken.

He took a moment to look at her bare legs. He didn't see any contusions, although both knees were still a little red from her fall in the common room. He hoped he hadn't held her hard enough to leave bruises on her thighs…

He returned his attention to her injured lip. He couldn't stand seeing the blood on her beautiful mouth and chin. He dipped one of the cloths into the basin and gently wiped it over her lip and all around her mouth.

She began to stir. He leaned in and spoke to her in a soft voice. "It's all right, Rose. You're safe now."

Her eyes opened, and she stared up at him. She inhaled sharply. "Doctor?" she rasped.

"Right here."

Her gaze flicked to his face for an instant, then she looked away. Her eyes were bright with tears. "Did I pass out?" she asked woodenly.

"Not exactly."

She kept her gaze on his chest. "What happened, then?"

"There's a pressure point in humans, just beside the carotid artery, that'll cause instant loss of consciousness," he began.

"Did you…" She swallowed. "Did you do that t'me?"

He nodded guiltily. "Yeah."

"Why?" Now her tone was slightly accusatory.

"I didn't want you to…" He paused then tried again. "I mean, I thought it'd be easier for you if you didn't have to go through that."

"But I did," she said shakily. "Even if was unconscious, I was still there."

"I'm sorry, Rose. I couldn't think of any other way." He lifted his hands in a gesture of apology.

Her gaze shot to the bloody rag he still clutched. With a grimace, she sat up and pressed her hands over her bare thighs. "Is that my blood?"

"Yes." The thought of the abuse she'd suffered made him frown fiercely.

"Oh my God," she whispered, hunching over as she drew her legs tightly together. "What did you _do_ to me?"

"It's not that bad—nothing permanent, an' I'll sort it once we get back to the ship. You won't even have a scar—"

"A scar?" Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I understand that you had to do it, I really do, but… why'd you have to be so rough? I thought… you liked me, you told me I was the best, an', an' that's not how you treat… someone you… like," she gasped out.

He rested his hand on her shoulder, but she flinched away. "I didn't hit you, Rose," he said, trying to remain calm in the face of her building emotion. "I think you might have concussion—might've forgotten what happened."

"I know you didn't hit me!" she said, wiping at her cheeks. "That's not what I'm talkin' about!"

"I don't understand," he floundered. He held up the cloth. "Am I wrong in assuming that bastard Kuroq did this to you?" He pointed at her mouth.

Finally she looked at him, blinking through the remnants of tears. "Yeah, he did." Her gazed flickered to the cloth then back to his face. "That's from my lip?"

He nodded. "What else would it be from?" Then he understood what she wasn't willing to say. "Oh. Oh Rose, did he do something else to you?"

She shook her head. "No, 'course not. But you… Didn't _you_?" She seemed confused.

"Didn't I… what?" Suddenly comprehension hit him like a ton of bricks. "No! No, Rose, of course I didn't!" He cupped her cheek in his hand. "Never, never in a million years would I—"

"But you said it had to be real," she interjected.

"No, I said they had to believe it was real. There's a big difference."

"So you didn't…force yourself on me."

He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them to capture her gaze. "It was all a sham, just play acting. You know what I did while you were conscious—and I'm sorry I had to handle you like that; honestly, I am. But once you'd passed out, all I did was hold you and move my hips a bit."

"An' they believed that?"

"I'm a good actor," he tried to joke, but he quickly became serious again. "I'm sorry you thought that. I should've said straightaway what happened—or didn't happen."

"'S all right," she said.

He wrapped his arms around her to envelop her in a hug. When she flinched again, he was more than a little surprised. He drew back. "What's the matter?"

"Sorry," she replied. "I'm a bit sore." She rested her hand lightly over her left side.

"He hit you there, too?" the Doctor asked with barely concealed rage.

"No. That happened when he kidnapped me."

"He came to the TARDIS?"

She shook her head. "No, he got me when I went outside."

"I told you not to leave!"

"I know, but it was so cold, an' all you had is this tatty old jacket." She touched his sleeve. "So I was just gonna bring you a warm coat, just catch up with you an' then come right back. Only I caught up to him."

His expression softened. "You know I don't experience cold the same way you do. Still, that was a nice thought, Rose."

She shrugged. "Anyway, he threw me over his shoulder an' held me so tightly that I couldn't breathe, and next thing I knew I was in a building with the other women." Her eyes were bright now with indignation and fury. "They don't even understand that they're bein' mistreated. We've gotta help them—"

"We will. But right now we need to focus on getting ourselves out of here."

"How're we gonna do that?"

"We wait until things settle down out there…" He shrugged.

A little shiver ran through her. He frowned.

"Sorry," she said softly.

He rested his hand against her cheek. "You have nothing to be sorry about. Do you understand that?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

"So what now?" she asked.

"You're gonna rest for a little while—get warmed up, too—an' then we're leavin'."

"An' the women?"

"Once we get back to the TARDIS, we'll return for them."

Something knocked against the adjacent wall, and they heard a man's feral grunts.

Rose grimaced. "Can't wait to get out of here."

"Me either," he replied. Only trouble was, he had no idea how he was going to accomplish that.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

Rose and the Doctor waited for nearly an hour, both trying to ignore the sounds from the room next door. Much as he wanted to charge in and remove the woman from her attacker, the Doctor understood that such an action would accomplish nothing. It was best to bide their time with the knowledge that soon they would remedy the unconscionable situation.

When the noise changed to deep snoring, the Doctor decided it was time to move. With luck, the other men would be finished, too, and perhaps the common room would be less crowded. He hardly dared hope that the bastards might have slipped into alcohol-induced stupors, but that was the ideal outcome.

Rose was feeling a little better. She wasn't as cold, and her lip had stopped throbbing. Her ribs ached, but the Doctor assured her that nothing was broken. Even so, when she sat up she had to suppress a groan.

"All right?" the Doctor asked simply.

"Yeah." She got to her feet. The wood floor was cold, and she knew the frozen ground outside would be even colder. "Still got my tights?" she asked.

With a murmur of apology, he pulled them from his pocket. She inspected the damage. She wouldn't be able to keep them up around her waist; he'd torn the top portion in two. However, she could separate the legs and wear them as socks. At least that would offer her feet some scant protection.

"Where're your shoes?" he asked as she ripped the fabric then began to bend down. "Ow," she muttered.

"Here," he said immediately, kneeling before her, "let me."

"I think Kuroq took them. They were gone when I woke up. So was my cloak. Miara—she's the dark-haired, tall one—said none of 'em get shoes; prevents 'em from runnin' off."

He shook his head as he rolled the stretchy material over her left foot. "Right. Clever lot, them," he said acerbically.

He covered her right foot then tore the remaining fabric to make two strips that he wrapped around her calves to hold the new stockings up. Then he toed off his boots and pulled off his socks.

"What're you doin?" Rose asked.

"You'd never be able to walk in my boots, but these socks are wool, and they'll help prevent frostbite."

He slipped the socks over her feet then quickly donned his boots again.

"Thanks," she said as he helped her to stand.

He removed his jacket and put it over her shoulders. She offered him a grateful smile.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He took her hand and led her to the door.

* * *

They paused for a few moments to assess the hallway. It was quiet, and the other doors were closed. They could see dull candlelight seeping beneath two doorways. The other was dark. Ahead a soft light glowed in the kitchen.

They crept down the hall. As they neared the common room, the Doctor lifted a finger to his lips then motioned for Rose to remain where she was. Stealthily he peeked into the large room. Most of the women were gone, but a dozen men remained. Three were stretched out on benches near the door, apparently asleep. Two more sat directly in front of the exit, clutching mugs in their hands. They appeared somewhat sluggish, but even in a lethargic state their bulk and ready access to weapons would make them difficult to get past.

When he turned back to the hallway, the Doctor was surprised to find it empty. "Rose!" he whispered urgently.

She stepped from the shadowed kitchen doorway, beckoning him. He joined her, and she pointed at the far wall. He grinned and mouthed, "Fantastic!"

A small doorway had been cut into the wall. It was about a meter high and a meter wide. A heavy wooden door covered it, but he could see rusted hinges and a metal handle. The little portal had probably once served as a primitive garbage chute, or perhaps the wood used to fuel the fire had been delivered here. Either way, they had found a method of escape.

Friya stood at the fire with her back toward them. He hated to do it, but the Doctor could think of no better option, he stole up behind her and clapped his hand over her mouth. She stiffened but did not attempt to fight him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "but you can't make any noise. All right?"

She nodded, and he dropped his hand. She turned around slowly, gesturing toward herself. She thought he had come for her.

He shook his head. "No," he said softly, "that's not why I'm here. We need to leave. We need to get through there." He tilted his head toward the small door.

Her eyes moved between him and Rose. For a moment she was fixated on his jacket, and then some sort of understanding seemed to wash over her.

"You… want her?" she asked him very quietly.

"Yes. She's my friend, and I want to keep her safe. So we need to get out of here."

"You can come with us," Rose said.

Friya's eyes widened in wonder. "Me?"

"Yeah. We'll help you get away—"

"No. My place is here."

"But—" Rose began to protest.

"Not now," the Doctor admonished mildly. Then he knelt before the door and examined the hinges. "How long since this has been opened?" he asked Friya.

"I don't know," she whispered. "Many years. I've never seen it open."

"Right, then we're gonna need something to remove some of this rust."

He stood and began prowling about the kitchen, opening various jars and sniffing at jugs. His nose wrinkled as he lifted a large container. Rose heard sloshing from inside.

"Perfect!" he proclaimed quietly. "Bad wine to begin with, nothin' more than vinegar now."

He crouched beside the door and poured a generous amount of the wine over the hinges. "Need a clean rag," he requested.

Rose stood closer to the Time Lord, so she took the cloth from Friya and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed.

"Thanks," he acknowledged.

Friya watched them with abject fascination. Her gaze moved back and forth between him and Rose, who could tell that she was trying to grasp their relationship. No man here would ever give a woman his coat; she felt certain of that. And a tender touch was unheard of.

"It doesn't have to be like this," Rose told her gently. "Men an' women can be friends, lovers, even spouses—means they're married, committed to each other, to help an' support an' love each other."

The older woman's eyes were huge. "Is that… is that how it is for you?" she asked very hesitantly.

"We care about each other. He would never hurt me. A man should never hurt a woman."

"But that is the way of things."

"Doesn't have to be. An' we're gonna show you. We're gonna come back for you, all right?"

"I… I don't know."

Rose gave her hand a warm squeeze. "Things're gonna get better. You'll see."

"Aha!" the Doctor proclaimed, although his voice was subdued by necessity.

He'd grasped the handle and was gradually prising open the door. It made a few creaks, but he worked very slowly to avoid causing any loud noises. When the door was fully open, he poked his head outside then beckoned to Rose.

"We'll be back," she reassured Friya.

The Doctor stood again to address Friya. "There's something we need before we can leave your village."

"The trade?" she said softly, then she pressed a hand over her mouth, clearly frightened that he'd punish her for eavesdropping.

He nodded. "Smart girl. You pay attention," he complimented. "I need a couple of those little pebbles that glow in the dark. They're about this big," he demonstrated with his thumb and index finger, "an' sort of greenish-gray."

"There are very few in the village. Sagar traded them for an animal. I don't know if he has any left."

The Time Lord frowned. "We'll check. Where's he live?"

She hesitated, but Rose's warm smile encouraged her to whisper and gesture to her left, "It's the fourth house. His is the largest."

"Who'd he trade with?" the Doctor asked.

"The men from the North. They traveled for many days to get here."

"Where do you get the pebbles?" Rose inquired. "Maybe we can just go there."

"The men talk about the caves near the mountains. I think that's where they find them."

"How far's that?" Rose asked.

"They leave after sunrise and return before the midday meal."

"So not that far," the Doctor confirmed. "And the mountains're between here and the TARDIS, just a little to the west."

He gave Friya a brief but sincere thank you, then he climbed through the small portal and out into the cold night. Rose crouched gingerly, wincing but remaining quiet. He extended his hand back inside to help her out.

As she was crawling through the little space, Friya handed her a tatty shawl then backed away.

"Be sure an' close the door after us," Rose said. "You don't want 'em to know you helped us."

Friya nodded then stepped away as the sympathetic young blonde and strange yet kind man disappeared into the darkness.

"Woman!" The gruff voice from the common room summoned her, and she hurried off to do his bidding.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

The air was bitingly cold, but at least it had stopped snowing. As soon as Rose was on her feet again, the Doctor wrapped the shawl around her waist so that it hung down to provide some protection to her bare legs.

"All right?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

He took her hand. "Don't leave my side."

"Not plannin' to."

He shot her a knowing look then began walking toward the homes near the public house. "Sagar's should be that one," he said, indicating the structure with a nod of his head. "He was still with the others last I checked, so there shouldn't be anyone there. We'll just pop in, see if we can find any bits of cochlolinite, then be on our way."

"All right." Her teeth were beginning to chatter from the cold, but Rose tried to speak clearly.

A low light glowed inside Sagar's home, visible through the small window near the roof. The Doctor and Rose paused at the door so that he could press his ear against the wood and listen. He heard nothing so slowly pushed open the door. They crept inside with soft footsteps.

A few embers smoldered in the fireplace; this was the single source of illumination. The Time Lord's eyes quickly adjusted to the semi-darkness, but Rose was barely able to see. She stumbled over a log near the door, gasping as the Doctor clasped her arm.

"Sorry," he said quickly.

"No, 's my fault. It's so dark in here."

"Suppose it is to you. You just stay here then. I'll have a look around." He began searching through the house.

Rose could tell that the building consisted of the room in which she stood and a small alcove which she supposed served as a sleeping area. She could just see the vague outline of a bed. The Doctor's tall form moved about. He walked quietly, but she could still hear his footfalls against the wooden planks.

The wind was picking up again. Outside there was a rustling, a murmur… Her eyes widened when she realized it wasn't wind; someone was approaching the house, speaking in low, rough tones.

"Doctor!" she whispered urgently, shuffling forward as she saw him pass into the alcove. "I think he's comin' home!"

His head whipped around, and he froze, listening intently. "Damn," he growled. In an instant he was at her side, guiding her toward the alcove. "Only one door. We're gonna have to hide in here."

"He might not be alone," she said. "Lots of times the men bring a woman back with 'em."

The both understood that Sagar was likely to head straight for his bed if that were the case. The Doctor's eyes flicked through the dimness. "Over there," he muttered, pulling her along with rapid steps.

The door rattled; Sagar was right outside. The Doctor urged Rose into the corner to the right of the doorway. This was the darkest part of the house, completely shrouded in shadow. Unfortunately, the lack of light prevented either the Doctor or Rose from seeing that something hung from the wall. As he pushed her gently into the depth of the shadows, a hard object dug into her left side.

Rose gasped. Her already sore ribs flared with pain, and she could feel tears springing to her eyes. She didn't realize that she'd whimpered until the Doctor's hand pressed over her mouth. He leaned in to whisper a ragged, "Sorry."

The door opened, flooding the room with light from the lantern Sagar carried in his right hand. His left gripped Miara's arm as he pulled her inside. He set the lantern on the table while she moved obediently toward the alcove. She'd clearly been in this house before.

The ring of light had spread to the corner. The Doctor reached behind Rose to shove aside whatever hung there, then he pushed Rose back even further, keeping his hand over her mouth so that she wouldn't cry out. He turned so that he could see Sagar, pressing his body back as far as possible until only the tips of his boots remained at the edge of the light.

Sagar stoked the fire before tugging off his vest and shirt and loosening his trousers. In the dim nook, Miara's actions were just barely visible. She was taking off her dress with mechanical movements.

As soon as Sagar climbed onto the bed, the Doctor reached for the door, but he did not open it. Rose shot him a pleading glance and received a firm shake of his head in reply. They waited, listening to Sagar's breathing grow heavier. Now his back was to them. Rose saw the paleness of Miara's leg as it dangled over the edge of the bed.

When it was evident that Sagar was focused fully on his task, the Doctor silently pushed open the door, just enough to permit Rose to slip outside. He followed, shutting the door noiselessly.

"Stamina of a damned bull," he muttered darkly with one final glance at the doorway.

Then he took Rose's arm and hastened behind the house. He didn't speak again until they were well away from Sagar's dwelling. He'd led them behind the houses, back toward the village wall. Now they paused, and she sagged against the wall, breathing heavily until the ache began to subside.

"All right?" he asked.

"Yeah, 'course. Somethin' jabbed me, but it's better now."

"I'm sorry. Didn't really have any choice back there… If he'd seen us, he'd have called the others—"

"Yeah, I know." She wrapped her arm around her sore ribs and tried to breathe steadily. "Did you find the cocolite?"

He frowned. "No. If he's got any there, it's well hidden."

"So what're we gonna do?"

"First thing, we're getting away from here and back to the TARDIS, where you'll be safe. Then I'll go to the caves and get the cochlolinite."

"An' then we'll come back an' help the women, right?"

"Right." He looked about, judging the height of the wall then tapping at it with his knuckles. "Solid as a rock, an' three meters high. We're gonna need help getting over this." He eyed her appraisingly. "You all right to walk again?"

"Yeah." She reached for his hand. "Now let's get out of here."

* * *

They crept along the perimeter of the village, looking for a means to scale the wall. There were no ladders, and they didn't dare enter another house; the Doctor felt they'd been fortuitous at Sagar's, but he wasn't willing to press his luck again.

When they reached the stable, they ducked inside for a few moments so that Rose could warm up. She'd been shivering for several minutes but had remained mute on the subject. While the Doctor appreciated her stoicism, he knew hypothermia was best avoided.

The animals were in individual pens along the walls. He steered Rose toward the closest one, feeling the change in ambient temperature as they neared the beast. He placed his palm against its brow, and it snorted softly. Its large, dark eyes were placid.

"Come here," he said, beckoning to Rose.

She shuffled toward him. He placed her hands on the animal's flank.

"Feel how warm he is?" he asked. "Get as close as you can. I want you to warm up while I have a look around in here."

Rose's fingers curled in the thick fur, and she took a step forward, drawn to the beast's body heat.

The Time Lord's search through the stable yielded nothing helpful. However, as he looked up at the roof, he noted the narrow windows about two meters off the ground. He could reach these and pull himself up. The stable was less than two meters from the wall. He'd found their means of escape.

He made one more pass through the building, stuffing a few items into his pockets. Then he returned to Rose.

"We should go now," he said.

She nodded. "You found a way over the wall?"

"Yep." He patted the animal's shaggy head in a small gesture of gratitude. It snorted softly, one large eye rolling toward Rose. "I think he likes you," the Doctor said.

"I like him, too." She scratched briefly behind one massive, hairy ear. "So, ready."

They walked back out into the cold night. He lifted his arms toward the window, finding that he could just reach the sill with his palms. The Doctor took a deep breath then wrapped his fingers around the sill. In one swift motion, he pulled his body up, planting his feet firmly against the wall. For a moment he seemed to crouch at an odd, ninety-degree angle, and then his feet slid onto the sill and he clambered up onto the roof.

Rose was watching him, of course. He lay on his stomach, gripping the edge of the roof with one hand while extending the other down to her. She took it, and he began pulling her up. She used her feet to scrabble up the side of the stable as he provided the momentum.

Soon she stood panting beside him, looking out over the wall. A thin crescent moon provided wan illumination, just enough to show the snow-covered ground. Above the shelter of the wall, wind whipped her hair and chafed her cheeks. The Doctor had turned to survey the village.

"Looks quiet still. That's good," he reported. Then, with one very long step, he stood on the wall. "Come on."

Rose reached for his waiting hands, trying not to look down at the space below. It wouldn't be terribly far to fall, but she suspected she'd sustain a sprained ankle at the least. She kept her eyes on his face and jumped.

For one instant there was nothing beneath her, and then her feet touched the solidity of the wall, and she felt the Doctor's arms wrap around her.

"Got you," he said. "All right?"

"Yeah."

He sat then dropped down to the ground. "Put your feet on my shoulders," he instructed, "and I'll help you climb down."

Rose complied, glad for a moment that she wasn't wearing any shoes. Her toes gripped the Doctor's jumper even as his hands wrapped securely around her ankles. She felt herself dropping and realized that he'd gotten down on his knees. She stepped onto the frozen snow with more than a little relief.

"We're gonna need to move fast," the Doctor said. "I don't want to risk hypothermia, and at these temperatures…" His gaze flicked over her. "Faster we move, less chance there is for you to get chilled. Shouldn't be more than a couple of kilometers back to the TARDIS."

"Hot cocoa," she said dreamily.

"All you can drink." He smiled down at her then took her hand. "Let's go."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9

They walked at a brisk pace, but Rose's feet began to grow numb after only a few minutes. She was fiercely cold and hugged the Doctor's jacket around herself as tightly as she could. He wore only his jumper, and she knew that, despite the differences in their physiology, he must be cold, too.

He kept her hand in his, and at first he maintained a steady stream of conversation. However, as they walked on, he spoke less. His eyes darted back and forth repeatedly, and more than once he looked down at her.

"You doin' all right?" he asked after perhaps fifteen minutes.

"Y—yeah," she stammered, suddenly aware that her mouth wasn't cooperating very well.

"Talk to me, Rose," he said brusquely.

"Wh—why?"

"So I'll know that you can."

"Wh—what d'you want me to say?"

"That's enough." He gripped her hand a little tighter and increased their pace.

The numbness was gradually spreading, moving up her legs. Her feet felt clumsy, but she managed to keep them trudging along. Her cheeks were raw from the relentless wind, and her eyes stung. She hadn't been able to feel her nose in some time.

At least her ribs weren't hurting much. The frigid air, however, hurt her throat and lungs, and her chest was beginning to feel a little tight.

They'd covered a kilometer or so when Rose suddenly found herself face-down in the snow. She must have stumbled, but she couldn't quite remember.

"Rose!" The Doctor's voice was urgent as he rolled her onto her back. He smoothed the hair away from her face.

She blinked up at him. "Sorry," she croaked. "Tripped."

He helped her to sit then took her hands in his. "Wiggle your fingers," he said.

She tried, but they only twitched a little, and that might have just been the result of her trembling. She could barely feel them, truth be told, and now her vision was getting sort of splotchy. She blinked again.

"Snowin'?" she rasped, suddenly realizing that large, wet flakes were falling before her eyes.

"Yeah." His expression was dark and brooding.

"Doctor? Wha's… wrong?"

He shook his head. "The TARDIS is still more than a kilometer from here, an' at this pace, it's gonna take us at least another hour to get there." He paused to point toward the sky. "An' this looks like a bad storm. If we're caught out in it…"

"Can't we outrun it?" she asked huskily.

"You can barely walk," he replied bluntly, but his tone wasn't unkind.

"No, I'm all right…" She tried to stand, but her legs refused to obey her.

The Doctor helped her to her feet, keeping an arm around her until she was steadier. He was thinking, calculating, considering. "Mountains're just over there." He nodded to his left.

Rose couldn't see anything. Clouds completely obscured the moon now, and the thickening snow veiled whatever vague images might have remained.

"How f… far?" she asked.

"Not as far as the TARDIS. I think it'd be wiser to head for the caves."

"Yeah. Okay."

He took her hand again and led her through the swirling snow. She plodded forward, trying to keep up with him but feeling the tug at her arm almost continuously. Her feet were growing leaden, though, and her legs felt very stiff.

The snow was freezing and nearly blinded her. It made Rose feel disoriented, confused… and after a time she lost track of everything but one thought: Keep walking. She repeated the simple command, over and over, but then it faded to a single word, and she couldn't understand, couldn't remember what she was supposed to do. Everything was white and cold, and she was lost, floating numbly as the maelstrom swirled about her. She didn't want to give up, to relinquish herself to oblivion, but there was nothing to tether her, nothing to keep her where she belonged.

"Rose."

The word, fuzzy and muted, filtered through layer after layer of haze, and at first was almost inaudible. But then she heard it again.

"Rose. Hang on, Rose. We're almost there."

Hang on. Yes, she could do that… if only she knew what to hang on to. Her fingers refused to grip, and her legs had turned to stone.

"Stay with me, Rose."

The voice seemed to rumble in her ear, and she let her head drop to rest against the solidity that surrounded her. A soft yet rapid thumping whispered to her—thumpthud, thumpthud, thumpthud—over and over again, and that was her anchor. She clung to it, pressing her ear against the Doctor's chest as he carried her through the storm.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

The Doctor had lifted Rose into his arms when she sank down the ground the second time. She'd been barely conscious, hypothermia beginning to set in, and he realized he'd been a fool to try to make this trek. But he'd wanted to get her away from those brutes, away from the unquestionable danger they posed. He'd seen the look in Kuroq's callous eyes. The Doctor would do whatever it took to spare her from that.

If only the snow hadn't begun… That had slowed their pace, wasting valuable time as he struggled to get his bearings. And then he'd taken a wrong turn and veered away from the mountains. He'd corrected the error, but it had cost them. Mostly, though, it had cost Rose.

She hadn't shown any sign of consciousness for the past ten minutes. She was a dead weight in his arms. In any other circumstance, her small frame would have been easy to carry, but for the past hour his body had been using excessive amounts of energy to maintain a constant temperature and stave off hypothermia. He had very little strength left.

The snow was so heavy that he had to feel along the rock face to find an opening. He was essentially blind, relying upon his other senses to do what his eyes could not. When the rock abruptly ended, his hand thrust into empty space, and, momentarily unbalanced, he fell to his knees, clutching his precious burden. He poked his head inside the opening, listening as he called out, judging the size of the aperture by the echo of his voice. He'd found a fairly substantial cave, and, with a deep sigh of relief, he crawled inside.

Cradling Rose to his chest, he moved back until he could no longer feel the bite of the wind. He could see nothing, of course, but he heard a few small clinks as his movements unsettled several objects.

He felt about the ground to ensure a smooth surface before he relinquished Rose's still body. He placed her on her side then rummaged inside his pocket. He'd taken a few handfuls of hay from the stable, and now he gripped several stalks between his teeth as he fumbled to light a match.

Suddenly a tiny flame flared to life, and he exhaled in relief. He lit the tip of the stalks then looked around, almost permitting himself a small smile. He'd found one of the caves where the men mined cochlolinite. A lantern sat against one wall, and in a few moments light flooded the cavern. Now he could see evidence of their work: Several more lanterns were scattered about, as well as a few empty baskets, a couple of large torches, a pail of partially frozen water, two digging implements that resembled shovels, and a couple of old blankets. This was clearly not the first time the weather had turned inclement; these men, for all their feral brutality, were not unprepared for sudden snowstorms.

Setting the lantern beside Rose, the Doctor pressed his fingers over the pulse point in her throat. He felt a tiny glimmer of optimism when he sensed the slow yet steady beating of her heart. He placed his hand over her chest to assess her respiration. She was still breathing, albeit at a depressed rate. He touched her cheek; her pallid skin was very cold.

Based upon length of exposure and air temperature, he hoped that her hypothermia was mild, but her unresponsiveness indicated a more severe case. He needed to determine her body temperature to be certain.

This wasn't the first time today he'd wished for the sonic screwdriver, but it might be the most crucial. Half a second at her ear would give him an exact reading… but he didn't have that option. Still, the ear would provide a more accurate measure of internal temperature than the mouth, and his senses could be very delicate and quite precise when necessary.

He moved aside Rose's hair and bent to brush his lips over her icy ear. His tongue darted inside. He closed his eyes to concentrate. Ninety-two degrees. That was as close as he could get, but it was accurate enough.

So, Rose was in mild hypothermia. Given the circumstances, that was actually good news. He could treat her, and with just a bit of luck and a touch of skill, she would recover without serious complications.

Now that he knew the situation, the Doctor worked quickly. He moved Rose to the far wall and set all four lanterns around her. He dug a hole in the ground and buried three torches then lit them. Warmth spread through the area almost immediately.

His next task was removing Rose's cold, wet clothes. He spread a blanket on the ground then carefully began undressing her. Anxious as he was to see her warm, he worked with slow, gentle motions, knowing that he needed to avoid even the minor strain on her heart that suddenly lifting a limb could cause. There was a significant chance of frostbite, too, and damaged tissues would be fragile and delicate.

He peeled off the socks and tights with painfully languid movements, inspecting each of her toes carefully once they were exposed. Through some quirk of fate (not that he believed in fate), she had avoided frostbite on her feet. He made a mental note to purchase more of those wonderful socks next time he visited the lovely little planet of New Geneve.

He examined Rose's hands and fingers with the same tender care. She had some minor frostbite on her fingertips, but it would be simple to repair once they were back in the ship. He removed her jumper and skirt, then shifted her onto the blanket prior to taking off her undergarments. His hands and eyes moved carefully over the newly exposed skin, checking for any signs of damage from the extreme cold. Aside from assorted bruises forming over her arms, he found no evidence of injury.

He wrapped the edges of the blanket around Rose, then folded the other blanket in two and set it over her. He spread her wet hair over the ground, away from her face. Now there was little else to do but wait.

* * *

Rose's eyelids felt very heavy, and her limbs remained leaden. But there was a tingling in her hands and feet; she remembered that she'd been out in the storm. She'd been cold, so cold, nearly frozen through, and everything had felt numb. That certainly wasn't the case now. The tingling was quickly morphing into a prickling, a sensation bordering on pain.

She took a deep breath, and the air she inhaled was warm. She was relatively warm, too, at least compared to how she'd felt before. She wasn't shivering, but she had an odd sense of exposure just the same.

Her fingers and toes were stinging now, and this finally induced her to open her eyes as, with some effort, she lifted her hand to her face. She squinted at her fingertips. Two of them seemed a little blistered.

"Rose?"

The Doctor's voice drew her attention away from her hand. He was crouching beside her, his eyes bright in the flickering light. She took a moment to move her gaze over the immediate surroundings. A fire burned a few feet to her right, and various pieces of cloth were stretched out around it. The wall beside her was natural stone.

"Cave?" she croaked, surprised at the tightness in her throat.

He nodded. "Looks like one where they mine the cochlolinite. We got lucky."

"Did… did you find any?"

"Not yet."

"Why… not?"

The smile he gave her was infinitely sad. "I had more important things to do."

She didn't understand, but before she could question him, he spoke again.

"How are you feeling?"

"Hands an' feet're sorta… prickly."

He nodded sympathetically. "You'll probably experience some odd sensations for a while." He took the hand she'd been examining and gestured to her fingertips. "You've got a little mild frostbite here—but none on your feet, amazingly—so that's gonna sting a bit. An' the return of full blood flow'll also feel a little funny. Shouldn't last very long, though. Do you feel cold?"

"Yeah, a little."

He reached over toward the fire to take an earthenware cup in his hand. "Try to drink some of this."

He slid his other hand beneath her head to lift it. She swallowed a bit of the warm liquid, then spluttered. "Water?"

"Sorry, it's all we've got. But if you can drink a bit more, it'll make you feel better."

She managed to swallow two more mouthfuls, and warmth gradually began spreading from her belly. Her shoulders, however, felt cold, and when she glanced down she saw that the blanket covering her had slipped, exposing her bare skin.

Her bare skin? "Doctor!" she squeaked, one hand quickly skirting over her naked abdomen. "Where're my clothes?"

He set the cup on the ground. "They were soaked through an' had to come off," he replied matter-of-factly. "They're dryin' now."

"But… all of 'em?"

Now he frowned down at her. "You were suffering from hypothermia. Best treatment's removal of all wet clothes then passive warming with blankets and ambient heat."

At first she thought he was angry with her for questioning him, but then she saw the shadow of fear in his eyes. He'd been frightened for her.

"Thank you," she said. "I… I feel much better."

"Compared with what?" he asked a bit acerbically.

"To bein' out there."

He nodded, and his tone softened. "Storm came up fast. It's slowin' down a little, but it looks like it'll last the rest of the night and into the morning."

"But we're all right in here, yeah?"

For a moment his gaze seemed to sear into her, and then he looked down at her hand again and said, "Yes, Rose, we are."

* * *

Rose was still dozing when the Doctor returned from his short trip outside. The storm was abating with the dawn. He thought they'd be able to travel safely in an hour or two. He checked the items of clothing to find them nearly dry. He'd shifted them frequently to take advantage of the heat source at various angles to ensure their readiness when it was time to depart.

His own garments were damp but bearable. He'd removed his boots and set them near the flames for a time, but aside from that he'd remained dressed. Once inside the shelter of the cave and without the additional burden of carrying Rose, his body had achieved homeostasis fairly readily. He hadn't felt cold in some time.

His companion was a different matter. She'd been chilled on and off since she woke. He'd helped her move closer to the fire and had given her the shawl—the first item to dry—to wrap around herself, and finally she'd felt more comfortable. She'd slept fitfully for the past several hours.

He tucked the blanket around her shoulders again then rested his hand over her cheek. Her temperature was almost normal now. Still, he was anxious to get her back to the ship where he could ensure her complete comfort and treat the aftereffects of her experience.

He brushed a strand of hair away from her brow; she stirred at the touch of his fingers. Her eyes opened, and she blinked up at him.

"Hi," she said with a small smile.

"You look like you're feelin' better," he observed.

"I am." She tugged the blankets around herself and sat up. "Are my clothes dry yet?"

"Nearly. Give it another hour or so. Storm's dyin' down, an' I think we'll be able to travel soon."

She nodded. "Then we go back to the ship an' return for the women. Did you get the cocolite?"

With a grin, he reached into his hip pocket. "I did." He opened his hand to show her four small stones.

"Were they hard to find?"

"Not really. I had to go back a little way into the cave, an' there was some digging involved, but I found 'em without too much trouble."

"Maybe you should get some more, in case you need 'em again."

"These'll last another three or four hundred years."

"You sure? 'Cause once we leave, I don't ever wanna come back here again."

"Me either."

For the next hour they discussed plans for rescuing the women. There were many options, but in the end they decided it would be best to land the ship in the village and take all the women away. Rose believed that other settlements on the planet might have a better attitude toward their female members; Miara's brief description of other women who'd been captured indicated as much.

The Doctor had no compunction about using stun weapons on the men if necessary. He hoped they would be sufficiently awed by the sudden materialization of his ship to do whatever he asked, but he would arrive prepared, just in case.

He waited near the mouth of the cave while Rose dressed. The snow had stopped falling, and hazy sunlight tried to peek out from behind the thinning clouds. The air was cold and crisp, but temperatures were already above freezing. The trek back to the TARDIS would require an hour at the most, and he felt certain that Rose could manage.

He turned back toward the cavern and called out, "You almost ready?"

"Yeah, just another minute," she replied, her voice echoing against the solid stone.

The Doctor barely had time to feel the distinctive warning prickle at the back of his neck before he realized that five men had emerged from the two adjacent caves and were rushing him with raised weapons and enraged expressions.

As he lifted his arms in an attempt to deflect the blows, he recognized Sagar and Kuroq. He tried to step back, to parry the strikes, but the attackers had moved quickly and effectively surrounded him.

A truncheon struck his arm, sending a wave of dull pain all the way up to his shoulder. He attempted to twist away only to feel the thud of a club at the base of his skull. Darkness throbbed before his eyes.

"Rose!" he cried urgently, but his words were silenced with another heavy blow to his temple.

The Doctor crumpled to the ground, the snow beneath his head flecked with bright, bronze-tinged blood.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

Rose's horrified scream had been silenced quickly by the huge hand clapped over her mouth. Sagar had stormed into the cave before the Doctor could warn her, and by the time she heard his cry, the burly man was right behind her.

Another man joined him, and her hands were bound behind her back as a rag was stuffed into her mouth. Something rough and tight was wrapped around her ankles, too. Once again she found herself thrown over a broad shoulder and carried unwillingly away.

As they stepped out of the cave, she saw the Doctor lying on the ground. Drops of lurid blood flecked the snow. She kicked at the solid hip near her foot, but her captor appeared immune to her feeble efforts. Sagar walked at her side.

Someone grasped a large handful of her hair and pulled painfully, jerking her head to the side.

"Give her to me!" Kuroq bellowed. She recognized the voice with a deep shudder of repulsion and ire.

"Not here," Sagar said.

"What does it matter? If she's still alive afterwards, I'll bring her back for the rest of you."

"If he wakes, it will anger him," Sagar replied, and she saw his hand gesture toward the Doctor. "He favored her."

"Enough to steal what is ours!" Kuroq retorted. "Let him see. Let him watch, and then I'll kill him."

"No," Sagar said firmly. "He saved the animal. We owe him his life."

"You are a weak man," Kuroq growled.

"No, I am a man of my word. Leave him." The man's statement was incontrovertible, and no one, not even Kuroq, tried to refute him.

But Rose could feel Kuroq's fury. He'd released her hair, but his massive hands clenched and unclenched in barely contained rage as he stomped along at her side.

**

It was the cool water against his cheek that finally roused him. The Doctor opened his eyes to squint up at the blue sky. He was lying in a pool of icy water. He sat up with a groan, pressing a hand over his aching head. His fingers moved over his skull automatically, assessing the damage.

No fractures, no concussion… that was good. And then it all came rushing back to him. They'd come for him and Rose. He pushed himself to his feet and ran into the cave. The torches had burned out, and all but one lantern was extinguished. His eyes searched through the dimness frantically. There was no sign of Rose. They'd taken her.

He hurried outside again, his sharp eyes taking in the footprints in the patches of snow still in shadow. The rest of the ground was covered in slush. He glanced quickly at the sun, judging the temperature and calculating how long it had taken for the snow to melt to this degree. Ninety minutes, two hours at the longest…

They'd be back at the village by now. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. He could reach the TARDIS in less than thirty minutes if ran; the village was twice that far. Decision made, he sprinted away, hoping against hope that he could reach Rose in time.

**

Rose had been dumped roughly in a dark corner shortly after the group returned to the village. She hadn't been able to recognize any buildings as she was carried past them; all she'd seen was the sodden ground. She'd expected Kuroq to seize her immediately; however, he'd stomped off with Sagar and the others for drinks, promising terrible things the moment he returned.

Her wrists and ankles were still bound, and the filthy gag remained in her mouth. She tried mightily, but she couldn't dislodge it. She'd already rubbed her wrists and ankles raw in her ineffectual efforts to free her hands and feet. Temporarily abandoning ideas of physical liberation, she took a few minutes to look around as her eyes began adjusting to the dim surroundings. Like the other buildings, this one had only a single, narrow window near the ceiling, providing scant light even during the day.

She saw a small table and single bench, and across the room a few embers glowed wanly in the fireplace. This was a house—probably Kuroq's house. Rose swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. She'd harbored some scant hope that they'd take her to the public house, where perhaps Sagar would provide a voice of reason. But now she knew she was on her own; the other men would permit Kuroq to do as he pleased with her.

Rose's eyes searched the room frantically. What could she use to defend herself? She had to get her wrists untied first, but how? Maybe she could burn the ropes if she could get her hands near the embers.

She got up on her knees and crawled toward the fireplace. The floor was rough and scraped at her legs, but she paid no attention. Her focus was now singular: Free her hands so that she find a weapon. Barring that, she would hit and claw at him when he came for her.

Turning her back to the hearth, she thrust her hands toward the warm glow. She felt the heat as her knuckles pushed into the ashes. Her breaths came quickly, sweat slicking her brow as she wriggled her arms and shoulders, hoping to find the hottest part of the embers. She ignored the pinpricks of pain all over her palms and fingers. When the smell of burning tickled her nose, she only worked harder.

Her arms strained against the ropes, tugging constantly in the hopes that the bindings were weakening. And then abruptly she stopped. She heard heavy footsteps outside the door. Rose blinked against the tears that sprang to her eyes and took a single steadying breath. Then she pushed herself up onto her knees again and crawled quickly back to the corner.

She collapsed against the cool wall just as the door swung open. Kuroq's bulk filled the doorway, and his growl resonated through the room. She could smell the stench of strong, raw alcohol as he walked toward her.

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. "Woman," he snarled, and the very term was anathema, "I'll show you your place."

He dragged her across the room and threw her onto the bed in the corner. She landed on her back. He reached down and pulled the rag from her mouth. Rose glared up at him. Her mouth was too dry to formulate the words she wanted to say.

He clutched at her hair as he waved the scrap in front of her. "Now I'll be able to hear you scream."

He threw the rag onto the floor and pulled a knife from his belt. With one movement he cut the ropes from her ankles.

"Kick me and I'll break your legs," he warned, pushing her knees apart.

Then he reached for the drawstring in his trousers, and they dropped to the ground.

_To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

The Doctor had reached his ship in twenty-seven minutes. He'd needed another five minutes to install the cochlolinite and restore power. Thirty-four minutes after leaving the caves he stepped from the TARDIS into the center of the village.

The guard at the gate gawped at him, but he paid the man no mind. The Oncoming Storm strode toward the public house with heavy, rapid steps. He flung open the door and demanded, "Where is she?"

Four daggers and three clubs were raised toward him. Seven men yelped as quick electric shocks shot through their arms. The weapons clattered to the floor.

Sagar stood up to face him. "Doctor. You have returned."

"Where is she?" he repeated furiously.

His dark glower was sufficient to make the leader take a single step back. The Doctor's arm shot out again to deliver another jolt with the sonic screwdriver, and an eighth weapon fell to the ground.

Sagar's eyes widened at the small yet powerful device gripped in the visitor's hand.

The Doctor ground out, "Next time they won't be left standing."

Sagar nodded and motioned for the men to move back. The Time Lord's gaze swept the room. Something in the kitchen doorway caught his eye. He saw a small, bare foot. He hurried toward the kitchen, his hearts hammering in his chest.

Friya sat slumped against the wall. At first he thought she was unconscious, but then he realized that her eye was swollen shut. Her left arm hung limply at her side.

"Friya," he said gently, suppressing the rage in his voice. He crouched beside her and touched her shoulder softly.

She flinched back immediately, her good eye opening fully to stare at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Sorry? For what?" he asked, quickly scanning her head with the screwdriver.

She swallowed and closed her eye again. "I… told them."

The Doctor examined her arm gently. It was broken in two places. "Told them what?"

"That… you'd gone… to the caves. Kuroq… has her."

"I know, but I'm going to get her back." There was no blame in his tone. He cupped her uninjured cheek tenderly. "Hold on, Friya. I'm coming back for you, too, and I'm going to take you away from here, someplace where you'll be safe."

She nodded gratefully.

He stood and returned to the common room. "Anyone else lays a finger on Friya, he's dead." His glare hit every single man. "Now where the hell is Kuroq?"

Sagar had sunk down onto a bench, but he looked up. "He did it. He hit Friya over and over again."

"An' you let him."

"We keep our women in their place, but we don't try to kill them. If we hadn't stopped him—"

"At least you did," the Time Lord bit back.

"We did." Sagar gestured toward a man who'd been hunched in the far corner. At a cursory glance, the Doctor had assumed he was inebriated to the point of unconsciousness, but now he could see that blood stained the man's chest.

"Dead?" the Doctor asked curtly.

Sagar nodded. "Kuroq has gone too far."

"Will you help me stop him?"

The leader stood and reached for a dagger. "I will."

The Doctor made no attempt to curtail the man as he slid the wicked weapon into the sheath at his hip.

* * *

Kuroq's fetid breath burned Rose's eyes, and she looked away. His massive hand was wrapped around her neck, but he'd told her in no uncertain terms that he'd leave her conscious for what was to come next.

"Fight me, though, and I'll break you neck," he warned.

She struggled to draw breath. Her arms were pinned uncomfortably behind her back, and the weight of his stomach pressed over her chest. He straddled her, his trousers around his ankles. His other hand was on her thigh: He was forcing her legs apart.

He glanced down at the skirt that hindered full movement of her legs. With a grunt of frustration, he tugged it up. He shifted slightly, permitting Rose to roll onto her shoulder for an instant. His fingers tightened over her throat, and she gasped.

"Stay still!" he commanded, his rough, dirty hand grasping at her edge of her knickers.

She waited until his eyes moved down again, and then her arm shot out to reach for the lantern on the small table beside his bed. He looked up at the movement, just in time to see the metal cage slam into his cheek.

He howled in pain and rage, and his hand left her throat. Rose delivered a swift, hard kick to his groin then pulled her legs back. Rapidly she rolled from the bed, landing on her hands and knees on the floor.

She had nearly gotten to her feet when his beefy hand closed around her hair. He jerked her head back and flung her to the ground. Her head thumped against the sturdy bedpost, and Rose's eyes fluttered then shut. She lay motionless, her neck at a strange angle, still supported by the post.

"Woman!" Kuroq barked, slapping her cheek.

She did not move. He growled in frustration, angry that she would not experience his wrath. But if she woke afterwards, she'd feel it; he'd be certain that she knew what he'd done to her. He tugged her skirt out of the way and brutally pushed her legs apart again.

He bent to speak into her ear, telling her precisely what he planned for her. His hands were pressed against the floor, on either side of her head. His knee nudged hard at her thigh. His words incited him, and he rubbed his pelvis over her roughly.

Then Kuroq bawled out in pain as Rose's teeth closed over his ear. She bit down for all she was worth, and then some, tasting blood almost immediately. It was hot, salty, and foul, but she didn't care. She kept her jaw clenched even as he tried to pull away. She felt something rip, and blood flowed over her cheek and chin.

Her hands pummeled his back, but his body pressed over hers prevented her from using her legs. Finally he managed to yank his head away. Rose spat the blood from her mouth then stared up at his livid face.

She was going to die. She knew that unequivocally now. He didn't care anymore about making her suffer; he only cared about exacting revenge for the pain she'd inflicted on him.

His hand closed around her throat again, but not before she managed to spit out, "Go to hell!"

She couldn't breathe, and the room was growing dark. She thought about her mother, about Mickey, but most of all about the Doctor. He'd never know—

Rose gasped as a little air managed to enter her windpipe. The intense pressure had left her neck, but now Kuroq lay over her, his bulk a crushing weight against her chest. She wheezed in an attempt to inhale. The darkness had not dissipated, and there was a dull rushing in her ears.

Then suddenly he was shifting, rolling away from her, and light was returning. She blinked and realized that the noise she'd heard was voices. Two men were talking—shouting, more like—and one voice was so familiar that it made her heart ache.

"Rose!"

The Doctor was on his knees at her side, his hand moving over her jumper. His head swiveled back and forth, his eyes locking on her chest then returning to Kuroq, who lay in a great lump at her side. The brute's flank was wet and red. She realized muzzily it was too much blood to have come from his ear.

"She's not cut," the Doctor said sharply. "It's from him."

Another man said, "The dagger didn't go all the way through."

"But it could have!" the Time Lord retorted angrily.

Yet even as he said the words, his tone was softening. One hand pressed gently against her throat, while the other touched her face tentatively. His eyes were fixed on her now, his focus singular.

"Rose?"

"'M… all right," she croaked, but her voice sounded funny.

His fingers moved gently over her throat. "He tried to choke her," he said, but not to her.

"Is she hurt badly?" Rose recognized the voice as Sagar.

"I don't know. There's a lot of blood…" His cool fingers moved over her cheeks and brow.

"His," she rasped out. "It's his."

"Can you sit up?" the Doctor asked, watching her carefully.

She nodded, and he helped her with a firm, strong hand at her shoulders. The change in position seemed to ease her breathing a little, and she finally drew a steady breath. The Doctor's hand had moved to rest against her back.

"That's is," he said encouragingly, "just take small breaths."

Once assured that her basic respiratory function was unimpaired, his eyes roamed quickly over her. She realized her skirt was still pushed up around her hips and reached down to adjust it. His gaze followed her movements, and then he looked up at her face, an unspoken question in his eyes.

"I'm all right," she repeated, her voice a bit less shaky now. Even so, she wasn't sure he believed her.

She tried to brush the hair out of her eyes, but it was sticky and clumped with blood. Her stomach lurched, and for a moment she thought she would be ill. But then the Doctor was wiping her face with a cold, wet cloth as Sagar crouched behind him holding a basin.

"Thanks," she said, closing her eyes as the rag moved softly beneath them. She kept her eyes shut until she felt the Doctor's gentle hands smoothing back her hair.

When she opened her eyes again, her gaze fell on Kuroq's body. He lay on his side, and she could see the dark smear all around his ear and over his shoulder. His sightless eyes were open.

She didn't realize that she'd made a noise, but she must have, because the Doctor took her arm and carefully helped her to her feet.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he said, steering her around the body and toward the door.

Her legs were weak; she leaned against his solid frame, gladly accepting the support he offered her. Once they stepped out of the house and the cold air rushed over her, Rose felt more alert and a bit stronger.

"I'll take you back to the TARDIS, then I'll get Friya," the Doctor was saying.

"No, we have to get all of 'em," she corrected.

"We will, but Friya's been hurt, and she needs treatment."

Rose stopped abruptly and looked up at him. "Kuroq?" she asked simply.

He nodded, rage simmering in his eyes again. "But she's alive. An' so are you."

Suddenly she was wrapped in his arms, the thudding of his hearts like thunder in her ears.

When he finally drew back, she said, "Let's get Friya, then. Public house, yeah?"

"You don't need to come with me. You can wait in the ship—"

She shook her head resolutely. "No. She's hurt because of us, isn't she?" Rose didn't need the Doctor to explain to her why Kuroq had attacked Friya. The woman's part in their escape and eventual capture was quite clear to her.

He seemed on the brink of arguing. However, she put her hand in his and urged him on. She saw the TARDIS sitting near the village wall, but she purposefully turned toward the public house.

They entered to incredulous stares, although she couldn't tell if the expressions were a reaction to her or to the Doctor, or to both. She really didn't care.

"She's in here," the Time Lord told her, nodding toward the kitchen.

Friya was huddled against the wall. Her face was a mess, and her right arm looked strange.

"Oh God," Rose said, dropping to her knees so that she could lay a hand softly on the woman's shoulder. "That bastard."

"He won't hurt anyone else."

Those words barely helped, but she supposed it was something… "How badly is she hurt?"

"Arm's broken in two places, fracture to the cheekbone, too, as well as concussion. But I can sort it; she'll be fine."

Friya was only semi-conscious. Even so, the Doctor spoke softly to her before he lifted her into his arms. He told her that he was going to help, that she needn't be afraid, and that the pain would be gone soon.

He carried her through the common room and out the door, Rose at his heels. She walked with him to the TARDIS, but when he stepped inside then turned back to look at her, she shook her head.

"Come on, Rose. When I finish with her, I'll take care of your injuries."

"I'm fine," she said unwaveringly. "I wanna go talk to the other women, tell 'em what's goin' on, that we're gonna get them away from here."

"Rose, you should really come with me—"

She folded her arms over her chest, trying not to notice the deep ache in her ribs. "Later. Take care of her, an' I'll take care of the others."

He relented with a shrug then disappeared inside the ship. Rose walked back to the house where she had awakened the previous day. She frowned as she disengaged the exterior bolt. Then she lifted her chin purposefully. This would end today.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	13. Chapter 13

The Doctor emerged from the TARDIS with Friya in his arms again. Her injuries were healed, but he'd given her a mild sedative so that she wouldn't wake until she was outside again. Exposing her to the ship's interior was probably more than she could handle at the moment.

He walked to the public house. The door was open, and a dozen or so men sat on the benches inside, drinking and talking. Sagar stood near the fireplace. He met the Doctor's gaze and offered a nod of greeting.

The Doctor brushed past several men, saying, "I'm puttin' her in one of the back rooms. She's to be left alone."

No one questioned him. Indeed, the atmosphere inside the building felt somewhat different, perhaps slightly subdued. He suspected that Kuroq's death had affected the others, at least a bit.

He settled Friya on a bed then returned to the common room, intending to find Rose. However, Sagar was waiting for him.

"Where's Rose?" the Doctor asked.

"She's with the women, in their house," the leader replied. "No one has touched her."

"An' no one will. The other women—" he began, but Sagar cut him off.

"Kuroq turned away from us," Sagar said.

The Time Lord nearly snorted in derision. With these blokes, acceptable behavior seemed a very slight matter of degree. "Right. You draw the line at killing a woman, but hittin' her or usin' her body is fine?

Sagar appeared slightly confused. He continued, "Kuroq took what wasn't his."

"An' the rest of you didn't?"

The leader reached into his pocket and opened his hand. Five small stones lay in his palm. "These are what you wanted?" asked Sagar.

"Cochlolinite. Yeah."

"He had these, hidden in his house. All five of them." He emphasized the number.

"I've already got enough. I won't need those."

"You took them from the cave?"

The Doctor nodded. "I did."

"How many?"

"Four."

For a moment, Sagar's expression hardened. "Those are what we trade for animals. None live near here, but traders from the north bring one or two down every year. We give them two stones for each animal. But there are few stones left. When they're gone, we will have nothing left to trade."

"You can't breed the animals?"

"They only bring the males."

The Doctor shook his head in mild exasperation. "Then ask them to bring a couple of females next time. Even if you have to give them a few extra stones, it'll be worth it in the long run."

"But the stones… " Sagar reached inside his tunic and pulled out a small pouch that hung from a thin strap around his neck. "Each man keeps one above his heart. They make us strong. We must be sure that we have enough, that there will always be one to give each boy as he becomes a man."

"This is a tradition with you lot?"

"Yes, for many generations."

Abruptly the Doctor plucked a stone from Sagar's hand. He pulled the sonic screwdriver from his jacket and switched it on, aiming it at the bit of mineral. His brow furrowed as he interpreted the results.

"Oh, I've been an idiot," he muttered. Then he lifted the instrument and ran it over the base of Sagar's skull.

The leader froze when he saw the device, probably recalling its effects on the other men when they'd tried to attack the visitor. Sagar seemed to steel himself for the impending pain, and when the Doctor pulled his hand away and dropped the screwdriver back into his pocket, Sagar was visibly relieved.

"Don't suppose you're familiar with the raphe nuclei?" the Time Lord asked conversationally. Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "In humans, there're usually nine of them, running up along the brain stem." He gestured toward the back of his own head. "Among other things, they're involved in the production of serotonin, a neurotransmitter. Too little leads to increased aggression and sexual behavior. Your raphe nuclei aren't functioning properly." He waggled his fingers at Sagar. "They aren't producing sufficient serotonin."

"I don't understand," Sagar said rather helplessly.

"It's the cochlolinite," the Doctor replied. "These stones. They emit a low level of a particular type of radiation that affects the raphe nuclei—those special structures in the brain stem. Makes you a nasty bunch—Kuroq even more so, 'cause he was getting a quintuple dose."

His dissertation was interrupted when Rose entered the building. "Doctor," she said rather breathlessly, "heard you were in here."

He nodded. "You all right?"

"Yeah, s'pose so."

Everything about her, however, belied her words. Little flecks of dried blood still clung to her skin, and her hair remained matted and dirty. She was moving gingerly, and her complexion was pale. Worse, though, was the utterly defeated expression on her face.

She shuffled across the room to stand at his side. "They don't want to go," she said dejectedly. "I tried to explain, to tell them that we'd take them somewhere safe, some place where no one would hurt them. But they don't understand; they've never known anything else—"

He reached for her hand. "I think you should hear what I've been tellin' Sagar."

"But—"

He squeezed her hand lightly. "Just let me finish."

She gave a nod of consent, and he continued.

"They've all been wearin' cochlolinite around their necks," he repeated for her benefit, "and it's been messin' with their brains, suppressin' production of serotonin, which has led to aggressive behavior. If the mineral's removed, if they can avoid direct, sustained contact with it, their serotonin levels should return to normal within few weeks."

"And when they do," she finished just a bit hesitantly, "they'll stop actin' like animals?"

"In time. Interaction between the brain and behavior's a complex one; they're conditioned now to behave a certain way. But it can be changed… if they want it to."

Sagar was listening, but he still didn't fully grasp the Doctor's words. The Time Lord turned to him.

"You and your men have to stop wearin' these." He tugged the strap from the leader's neck. "They're not doing anything good for you. You saw how Kuroq got. That was from the stones."

"But they make us strong!" Sagar protested.

"No, they don't. Weren't you listening to anything I said? They're hurting your brains. They're damaging you."

"But we need them—"

"To trade? Yeah, you probably do. And the level of contact required for that is minimal enough that it shouldn't affect serotonin production—shouldn't harm you. But you have to stop wearin' it around your necks."

Sagar shook his head stubbornly.

"Do you want to lose all your women?" the Doctor asked pointedly.

"What?"

"I'll take them away. I can do that." He reached into his pocket to show the man the tip of the sonic screwdriver. "An' I will, unless you get rid of those stones."

"The men won't like it."

"Nope. But they respect you, an' they'll do what you say. Way I see it, you don't have any other choice. It's the stones or the women."

Sagar's hand closed over the small leather bag dangling from the Doctor's fingers. He held it for a few moments then tossed it onto the nearest bench.

The Doctor clapped a firm hand over his back. "Good decision." Then he turned to Rose to wrap an arm about her shoulders. Addressing Sagar once more, he said, "I'll be back to check on you, so I'd recommend that you keep your word."

Without further discussion, he ushered Rose from the building.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 14

"Is that really gonna work?" Rose asked as she and the Doctor walked toward the TARDIS.

"Yep."

"An' when are you comin' back?"

"Oh, probably in a couple of months—their time, of course."

Rose sighed.

"Things _will_ get better here," he assured her. "I promise."

"Yeah."

The remainder of the walk back to the ship was completed in silence. He opened the doors then waited until she'd stepped inside to follow her. She stood with her face to the ceiling, the glow from the console giving a strange cast to her skin. She looked wrung out—exhausted, battered, dirty, and drained.

He rested a hand lightly against the small of her back. "Come on, Rose. Let's get you sorted."

It took her a moment to respond. Finally she blinked up at him. "Need a shower," she said.

"Yeah, you do. But that can wait—"

She shook her head. "No. I'm filthy." She scrubbed her hands roughly over her face. "I need to wash this off of me."

He took her wrists gently and lowered them. Her hands were beginning to shake, and her exhaustion was almost palpable. She'd held herself together while speaking with the women, but now, in the sanctuary of the ship, it was all crashing down on her.

"Rose—"

"Please. I have to get clean." Tears glistened in her eyes.

"Come on," he relented. "I'll get a bath goin' for you."

She exhaled slowly then gathered what little strength she had to walk toward the corridor. "Thank you," she said softly.

He led her to his own room, rarely used. It had a spacious bathroom with a large tub that he thought would suit her needs. It was a measure of her deep fatigue that she didn't ask about the quarters. Rose sank down to sit on the bed while he hurried into the bathroom.

He spent a few minutes filling the tub, searching through his well-stocked medicine cabinet while he waited. As warm steam began curling up from the water, he added a soothingly scented lavender gel that left small, frothy bubbles on the surface. He also poured in a few drops of a mild antiseptic solution that would help treat Rose's wounds.

He set half a dozen candles at the foot of the tub. Their muted glow leant a soft atmosphere to the room. He pulled several thick, fluffy towels and flannels from the linen tower then hung a silk robe on the back of the door.

Rose sat slouched on the bed, her hands pressed against the mattress. He thought she was trying to keep herself upright.

"It's all ready," he said. He took her elbow to help her stand then led her into the bathroom.

"Oh," she said softly, "this's nice."

She took a step forward but faltered and nearly fell.

"Rose?" he questioned with concern.

"Sorry. Feel a little wobbly." She smiled up at him in apology.

"Can you manage?" he asked. Then, before she could reply, he added, "Wouldn't want you to drown in here. Maybe I should stay."

"Stay?" she squeaked.

"I'll keep my back turned, but I think I should remain nearby." He spun around to face the door, folding his arms over his chest.

He could hear her breathing quicken slightly, and then he heard the slight rustle of cloth as she began pulling off her clothes. Twice her breath hitched, and he knew she'd done something that caused a twinge of pain. He wished she'd let him treat her injuries first thing, but he understood her desperate desire to wash herself clean of the experience with Kuroq. What that bastard had done to her—

There was a little splash, and he almost turned around, but then her sigh floated across the room. She was in the water.

"All right?" he asked.

"Yeah. But…" She paused. "Is there shampoo?"

"Oh, right. Sorry."

He moved quickly to the shower stall in the corner and retrieved a bottle of shampoo. A quick glance at the bathtub assured him that Rose was up to her neck in bubbles. He walked back toward her and set the bottle on the edge of the tub.

"Thanks," she said, then she lifted her hand from the water and gave a little hiss of pain.

"Rose?" he asked, forgetting about silly human propriety in his concern. "What is it?"

She lowered her arm. "Just… Ribs're a little sore, I suppose."

"Any trouble breathing?"

"No, 's fine. But I've gotta get this… this blood an' stuff out of my hair." He could hear the frustration in her voice.

Immediately he pushed up his sleeves and knelt behind her. "Here, let me."

"Doctor, you—" She twisted her head to look back at him. "Really?"

He smiled at her. "Really."

She gave a small nod of consent. He reached for the hand shower and turned the knob, running the water over his wrist until it was pleasantly warm.

"Scoot forward a little," he requested.

She complied, then he gently titled Rose's head back with a hand across her brow and aimed the soft stream over her hair.

"Temperature all right?" he asked.

He heard the relief in her voice as she said, "Perfect."

Once her hair was wet, he squeezed shampoo into his palm then began rubbing it in with small, light strokes over the clumped strands. He started at the bottom and worked his way up, careful not to tug or pull. When he reached her scalp, he massaged tenderly until she winced. His fingers moved over an area of swelling behind her left ear.

"I'm sorry," he said.

He probed very gently over the rest of her skull, his sensitive fingertips examining her for any other injuries. The lump he'd noted yesterday, back at the public house, had gone down, but he didn't like the new one.

He continued shampooing her hair, then he rinsed away the lather.

"Better?" he asked when he'd finished.

"Yeah," she nearly sighed. "So much."

"Right, then. I'll just wait over here by the door in case you need anything."

"Could you maybe go to my room an' get me somethin' to put on?" she asked.

"You gonna be all right for a few minutes?"

"Yeah."

Somewhat reluctantly he left the bathroom, visions of Rose slipping under the water taunting him. He'd come so close to losing her this time… He hurried to her room and grabbed the first thing his hand found when he opened her dresser drawer. He glanced at the items—a pair of soft little boxers and a tank top—and thought they'd do.

He paused outside his bathroom to ask, "How're you doin' in there?"

"I'm all right," she replied.

"Just about finished?" He didn't try to hide the impatience in his tone. He knew she needed to bathe, to feel clean, but he was anxious to treat her injuries.

"Just about, I suppose," she answered rather reluctantly. "Did you get my clothes?"

"Yeah. I'll just set 'em here."

He reached inside the door and placed the items on the counter. He remained near the doorway, listening as she opened the drain. He could hear a few light swishes while she dried herself, and more than once he caught her sharp intake of breath. She was in pain; that much was clear.

Still he waited for her to emerge from the bathroom. When she did, she was moving slowly. Her hair was wet but not dripping, and she'd pulled the silk robe over the shorts and tank top. Her cheeks remained rosy from the warmth of the water, but beneath the flush he could see her pallor.

He rested his hand against the small of her back, very lightly in case she was sore there, too. "Come on," he urged. "Let's get you sorted now."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	15. Chapter 15

After agreeing to let him treat her wounds, Rose walked along slowly at the Doctor's side. However, he could sense a hint of trepidation in her eyes.

When they reached the infirmary, he helped her up onto the examination couch. "Let me take your robe," he said, holding out his hand.

She hesitated for just a moment then shrugged out of it. "'S cold in here," she commented nervously.

"Is it? Easy fix."

He passed his palm over the thermostat as he hung the robe near the door. Then he returned to stand before her. She looked like a child, with wide, anxious eyes. He cupped her cheek in his hand.

"There's nothin' to be frightened of now," he told her gently. "I won't hurt you, Rose. I'm going to make everything better."

She nodded, some of her apprehension fading.

However, he still added, "If I do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or that hurts in any way, even a little, you tell me, all right?"

"Yeah, all right."

He understood that she needed to feel in control again. He'd been in her shoes more than once in his long lifetimes. He offered her a reassuring smile then turned back to one of the drawers to get the first instrument he needed.

He held it up to show it to her. "This's a dermal regenerator," he said. "It'll repair any superficial damage to the dermis. I'm gonna use it on your lip. It'll feel just a little tingly, but it shouldn't cause any pain." He switched it on.

"How long's it take?" she asked, her innate curiosity beginning to pique.

"Just a few seconds."

He held her chin gently and aimed the device over her split lip. He glanced up once or twice to be sure she wasn't frightened by the tingle. And then it was done. He ran his thumb over the smooth skin.

"How's it feel?" he asked.

She touched it and smiled. "Loads better."

"It'll take care of that goose egg, too," he said, motioning toward her head.

She gave a nod of consent, and he went to work. When he'd finished, he took her hands so that he could examine the abrasions on her wrists. "This looks like a burn," he said, scrutinizing the two sets of marks.

"Yeah. My wrists were tied, an' the only way I could think of to loosen the ropes was to try to burn 'em off. There were some embers in the fireplace…"

He winced internally at the thought of his precious Rose thrusting her hands into the fire, but he kept his expression light as he complimented her, "That was clever."

She shrugged. "Dunno about that, but it worked."

He ran the dermal regenerator over the abrasions and burns then repaired the necrosis caused by the frostbite on her fingertips. His eyes moved over her exposed skin, quickly locking on her ankles. Her feet must have been bound, too.

"Put your legs up here," he requested, tapping the surface of the couch.

She hesitated, and at first he thought she was still nervous. But then he saw her wince of pain as she began to shift around. Quickly he helped her, his gaze sweeping across the deep bruises forming on her thighs. His hand almost tightened around her ankle as a reflexive response to his rage. But he was a Time Lord; he had better self-control than that.

He took one foot gently and lifted it so that he could examine her toes. His thumb ran softly over her sole, and he felt her flinch again.

"Is this sore?" he asked.

"A little," she replied. "Walkin' over frozen ground in only socks'll do that, I suppose." She tried to smile, but neither found any humor in the memory.

"Looks a little tender," he said, "but there's still no sign of frostbite on your toes. It could still show up later, so I'll need to check again in a day or two."

"You can't just use the dermal re-whatsit anyway?"

"Not a good idea. Re-growing new skin over undamaged dermis doesn't have very pretty consequences. But I can use the deep tissue regenerator to ease the underlying muscle strain."

He spent a minute or so on her ankles then paused. While he understood that Rose's bruises were painful, he knew that treatment would require that he touch her, possibly in a more intimate way than she felt comfortable with.

He set aside the dermal regenerator and reached for a tube of iridescent gel. He showed it to her, saying, "This is the best thing for bruises. Since they're caused by broken blood vessels filling the tissues with fluid, healing 'em requires a substance that dissipates the accumulated fluids. This'll do the trick."

He squeezed a single pearl onto his fingertip then took her elbow, holding her arm steadily so that he could rub the gel over one of the bruises using the lightest stroke. The analgesic properties would numb any accompanying pain quickly, and then he could work on the contusion in earnest. He waited for about five seconds then massaged the area with deeper strokes, encouraging the gel to work its way to the damage.

Rose watched with interest as the dark smudge disappeared underneath his fingers. "Wow," she said, "that's amazin'."

"Standard forty-third century stuff," he replied, then he gave her a rather smug smile and added, "but I made one or two slight alterations to the molecular structure. Works even better now."

He finished with her right arm then moved on to the left. Soon there was no sign of the abuse she'd suffered; both arms were smooth and unmarred. Now it was time to treat the other contusions. He rested a tentative hand upon her knee. She took a breath, and he could feel her heart speed up a little.

"I know these hurt," he said gently, nodding toward her thighs. "The gel'll take away the pain straightaway."

She bit at her lower lip. He could see the flickering trust in her eyes, but her body was reacting with the learned response of cringing fear. Her heart was hammering now.

He kept his hand where it lay but made no attempt to move it. He would wait for her—as long as it took. But he would not back away. It was important that she permit him to complete this small yet personal task, because it would help her to regain her trust in him completely. She needed to know, absolutely and irrevocably, that those who cared about her would never harm her. Hell, if he had his way, she'd never be harmed again.

He realized he was frowning a little, so the Doctor affected a more benevolent expression. At first it was forced, but as he gazed at Rose, his features softened into natural compassion and warmth.

She was watching him, too. Her eyes had moved gradually from his hand to his face. She gave a small nod of consent.

He smiled genuinely then put a bit of gel on his fingers. Barely touching her skin, he swept it over the bruises on her left thigh. Her shorts were quite small, and he was able to see nearly her entire leg. He heard her swallow as his fingertip brushed over the highest bruise, and he wondered whether there were others he wasn't able to see.

His hand hovered over her leg until he was certain the numbing property had taken effect. Then he began moving his fingers in small strokes over the soft skin. He could feel her pulse pounding through the femoral artery, but he continued, and by the time he'd finished with the left leg, her heart had slowed a bit.

He performed the same treatment on her right leg. She remained sitting up, her eyes shifting from his hand to his face repeatedly. He understood that she wanted to trust him but needed to be absolutely sure…

"There we are," he said, placing the cap back on the tube. "Model patient, you are," he complimented her. Keeping his tone even and matter-of-fact, he continued, "So now let's sort the ribs, an'… oh, right, do a quick check for concussion, just in case, 'cause you were dizzy before."

He reached for a slightly amped-up penlight and switched it on. He held it before each eye, watching her pupils for their reaction. The small device also assessed basic brainwave activity, so he could check for any other less obvious neurological issues.

Rose sat quietly while he studied her eyes, but after a few moments she commented, "That's really bright."

"Almost done," he replied.

She blinked. "It's givin' me a headache."

"Is it? Sorry, can't be helped." He was a bit concerned by this new information, and it made him slightly brusque.

"But you said," she began, pausing when he took her chin in his hand. She blinked again.

"Stay still, Rose."

"Doctor, you _said_," she repeated, her voice straining just a little.

He clicked off the penlight and set it aside. "What's that?"

"You said to tell you…" She seemed to anticipate that he'd understand, but he didn't, so she kept going, her voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "If anything you did made me uncomfortable or… or hurt." She looked down.

Damn. In his concern, he'd forgotten all about that. The Doctor offered her an apologetic smile. "I did. I'm sorry."

"An' I wasn't tryin' to complain," she continued, seeming oblivious to his comment, "but… 's just that… he didn't care, just kept hurtin' me, an' I thought the pain was over, but…" A tear rolled down her cheek.

He wiped it away with a soft brush of his thumb. "I'm sorry, Rose." His own voice was deep and husky with emotion. "Bastard." He couldn't help spitting out the word. Only thing was, even in his own mind he wasn't sure if he was referring to Kuroq or to himself.

"I hit him with a lantern," Rose said, leaning into his hand.

Suddenly he realized that she needed to tell him, needed to say the words to exorcise the remnants of the horrific experience completely. And he understood that the best thing he could do was to listen.

"Got my hands free an' picked it up from the table. I hit him in the face, an' I thought I'd be able to get away, but as soon as I'd got off the bed he grabbed me an' threw me down. Hit my head on the edge of the bed."

His fingers rubbed at the spot. His eyes told her how he felt and urged her to continue.

"I pretended to be unconscious—really, I hoped he'd think I was dead an' just leave me alone. But it didn't matter. He was gonna… do it, no matter what. An' he was disgustin'—manky an' rank an' rough. An' he rubbed up against me, an' I could feel him, an' smell him, an' I thought there wasn't anything left to do, 'cause he was chokin' me then, an'… an'…"

Now was the time to speak. He wrapped his arms around her. "And then Sagar and I came, and we stopped him."

"You did," she sniffled. "Thank you."

"He'll never hurt anyone again."

"No," she whispered, "he won't."

The Doctor held Rose while she sobbed quietly, but once unburdened her distress didn't linger. After a few minutes she drew back and gave him a nod. He sensed little reticence from her now.

"So," he said, stepping away for a moment to rummage through a drawer, "looks like you've got a mild concussion, but I can sort it easily. I just need… Ah, here we are." He found the tool he required and turned to show it to her.

"Lemme guess. Brain regenerator?" she asked with a wry smile.

"Close. Neural reconstruction unit. It'll alleviate most of the swelling." He activated the device. "I need to place this against your skull so the electro-magnetic pulses'll diffuse directly to the cerebral tissue. There's gonna be just a little pressure—might be a bit uncomfortable, but it won't last long."

"Okay."

He positioned the instrument then made a quick adjustment to begin the process. He kept his free hand against her cheek to hold her head still. He saw her jaw clench and knew the sensation of pressure was building. "Just another few seconds," he told her.

And then it was finished. He pulled the device away. Rose blinked several times and rubbed at her forehead.

"Still have the headache?" he asked.

"Yeah, little bit."

He checked her eyes with his souped-up penlight again. "Concussion's 90% resolved. That's the best I can do with the NRU. The rest'll heal on its own. If you can manage for now, we'll see how the pain is in a few minutes. It should fade now the pressure's diminished, but if it doesn't, I'll give you something to alleviate it."

"Thanks."

He glanced back at the countertop. It seemed littered with instruments now, and the Doctor scowled at the thought of all the damage done to Rose. For a moment he felt he had an insurmountable task. Sort one thing, then the next, yet there was still more, still another injury, another reminder of the cruelty and violence she'd endured.

But her body would heal completely. He'd see to that. And her mind was already on the mend. One look at her face told him that her indomitable spirit—her pluck and determination, her wit and humor—was returning in spades.

"Right. Let's have a look at those ribs," he said briskly.

He ran a scanner over her ribcage then reported that there were no fractures, but there was some significant muscle strain and bruising.

She sat patiently while he used the deep tissue regenerator to repair the damage. When he was finished, he used it on the soles of her feet, too. She wiggled her toes happily once the pain was gone.

He returned the instruments to their places, hoping he wouldn't need to use any of them again for a very long time.

Once everything was put away, he asked, "How's the headache?"

She seemed almost reluctant to answer. "Still there, but it's not too bad."

"Well, I think I can get rid of it completely." He lifted his hands and placed his fingertips against her right temple and beneath her left ear. He rubbed in small circles for several seconds. "How's that feel?"

"Better," she replied, clearly surprised.

"That should take care of it, but I want you to tell me if it comes back. It was probably due more to low blood sugar than the concussion, but we're gonna take care of that."

She frowned a little. "I'm not gonna need an IV or somethin', am I?"

"Nope. Just a good, solid meal."

"Think I can live with that."

He handed her the robe then helped her from the couch. "So, one breakfast comin' up. Or would you prefer lunch? Or dinner? Or tea?"

"Whatever you feel like fixin'."

"Anything—as long as it's not you."

Her hand slid into his as they walked out of the room.

* * *

_To be concluded…_


	16. Epilogue

Rose slept for nine solid hours. When she woke, she felt slightly groggy and disoriented, then her heart began thudding against her ribs. After a few moments, she realized that she was in the TARDIS, safe and well. She sighed and got out of bed.

When she joined the Doctor in the Console Room, he greeted her amiably, but she saw the hint of concern in his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "Has the headache come back?"

She shook her head. "No. I feel fine."

She walked up the ramp. As soon as she'd reached him, he shone the sonic screwdriver into her eyes. He gave a nod of satisfaction.

"Concussion's fully resolved," he informed her.

"That's good." She grinned up at him. "_You're_ good."

"I am."

A flicker of darkness dimmed his gaze for a moment, however, and she knew he was recalling what had happened to her.

"So," she said, looking down at the console, "have you set this thing to return the village yet?"

"No."

"Then do it. Let's be sure Sagar kept his word."

She thought his hand hesitated for just an instant before he began programming the coordinates and activating the necessary knobs and levers. "Right. Six months on ought to do it."

The landing was rather bumpy, but Rose didn't mind. She was anxious to see if anything had changed. She still had her doubts and honestly believed that the women would be better off living elsewhere.

The Doctor took her hand as they exited the ship. They'd materialized just inside the village wall. Rose recognized the simple buildings against the stark landscape, but something seemed different. The weather was cold, and wind whipped over the wall, but somehow the atmosphere felt warmer here.

She looked around and realized that many of the doors were adorned with bunches of dried flowers and herbs. Somewhere nearby she heard laughter. She blinked in surprise. The sound seemed so incongruous here…

Turning her head, Rose saw a woman walking with a child—a girl of about five. The pair were clearly mother and daughter. They were giggling and relaxed. There was something familiar about the mother, and suddenly Rose ran toward her.

"Miara!" she cried.

The woman looked up. It seemed to take her a moment to recognize the visitor, but when she did she smiled warmly. Rose embraced her.

"Rose," Miara said softly. "I didn't think we would ever see you again."

"How long's it been?" Rose asked.

"Eleven years."

Rose shot the Doctor a reprimanding glance. He shrugged apologetically then smiled at Miara.

"An' who's this?" Rose inquired, looking at the child's pretty face.

"This is my daughter."

"What's her name?"

Miara smiled just a little. "Rose."

"Really?"

"Yes. My first two were boys, but as soon as I saw her, I knew what I would call her."

"You have three children?" Rose asked, frowning at the implication. The men hadn't changed at all…

"We do."

"We?" the Doctor questioned.

"Yes, Sagar and I. We're bonded."

An incredulous grin was spreading across Rose's face. "You are?"

"For nearly eight years. That is our house." She pointed toward one of the homes with the herbs adorning the door.

"You live together, like husband and wife?" she confirmed. "An' he treats you well?"

"Yes. He does. Once the men stopped wearing the stones, they became less rough, and when they treated us with kindness, we gave them kindness, too." Miara wiped at her eyes as she looked at the Time Lord. "We have you to thank for it."

"An' the other women," Rose continued, "they're well-treated, too? Are most of 'em bonded, as well?"

"Yes," Miara replied. "Families live together, as we'd heard they do elsewhere. Like you do."

Rose felt a very slight blush creep over her cheeks. The Doctor, however, had already shifted his attention elsewhere.

"How's Friya?" he asked, looking around the village.

Several other men, women, and children strolled about, and the smells of cooking wafted through the cool air.

"Go and see," Miara urged. She nodded toward the public house.

Rose hugged her again and kissed the little girl's cheek. The Doctor shook clasped Miara's hand warmly and wished her well.

The public house looked different, too. The door—formerly a bleak, faded wooden structure—was now smooth and colored a pretty blue. A dried garland festooned the arch above the doorway, and the effect was quite welcoming.

The Doctor pushed open the door, and they stepped inside. Clean tables sat around the spacious, tidy room. Pots of herbs sat about, their greenery and fragrance giving the air a fresh scent. The fireplace had been scrubbed of the encrusting soot, and now the stones were light and warm.

A half a dozen men and two women sat at the tables, some with cups and others with bowls and plates before them. Animated conversation echoed through the large room. There were no angry or sharp tones, and the atmosphere was friendly and hospitable.

"Welcome!" a woman greeted, exiting the kitchen. She smiled affably and motioned toward a nearby table.

"Friya?" Rose asked, hardly recognizing the poor creature she'd met before.

This woman glowed with health and happiness. She'd gained weight and now was slightly round and soft, but the look suited her. Her cheeks were rosy, and her hair was glossy. The smile she offered was genuine.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

"It's Rose, an' the Doctor," Rose replied.

Friya clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped in surprise. "Oh! You… you came back! I'm so glad, because I never got the chance to thank you—especially you, Doctor."

She clasped his hand and beamed up at him.

"No need," he responded with just a touch of gruffness, but his expression was entirely genial.

"Please, let me offer you some refreshment," Friya said.

The man and woman in the far corner stood and walked toward the door. With a few words of acknowledgement, the man placed several coins in Friya's hand.

"Come again next time you're traveling through," she said with an appreciative nod.

"They're not from here?" the Doctor asked.

"No, they're travelers. We have many more visitors now," Friya explained. "Once things began to change—once it was not so rough here—others began to stop during long journeys."

Rose glanced at the coins. "But you kept workin' here."

"Working?" Friya repeated. "Well, I suppose so. But it is my public house now."

"You're the owner?" the Doctor asked with a very pleased grin.

"Yes."

"Fantastic!" he said, hugging her quickly.

She seemed a bit surprised by the sudden show of affection, but she didn't appear frightened. Indeed, she took his hands and said again, "Thank you."

Friya insisted that they each have something resembling hot cider and a bowl of delicious stew. Sagar joined them, bringing his oldest son along. The father's affection for his child was quite evident; the two were obviously close.

Sagar's manner had changed considerably. He was a gentler, more thoughtful man, and Rose's initial trepidation about his relationship with Miara faded.

"You kept your promise," the Doctor said.

"I did," Sagar replied. "It was hard at first—the others resisted, and some fought it—but once we'd all given up the stones, we realized that we felt much better. We weren't angry and irritable all the time, and when the traders came, they weren't afraid of us anymore. They started visiting more often, and we saw how they were—how they were content. We understood then that you'd been right, and we are all grateful."

The Time Lord gave a half-smile in response. But Rose could see that he was anxious to go. He never liked accepting praise once he'd gotten things sorted. They made their farewells and managed to return to the TARDIS with little additional fanfare.

"So," he said, comfortable once more as he stood by the center console, "where to now? Future or past? Milky Way or Mutter's Spiral?"

"Anyplace you like." She smiled broadly. "I trust you."

Those final three words were among the loveliest he'd heard her utter in some time. He grinned at her and spun the dials that would lead to their next adventure.

* * *

_The End_


End file.
